


The long road to here

by Heath17_KO5



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Middle School, Slow Burn, dealing with some mental health issues, oblivious baby gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26510650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heath17_KO5/pseuds/Heath17_KO5
Summary: You see her for the first time when you’re 11: all windswept brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, tanned skin, broad smile. You see her and instantly feel drawn to her. You see her and instantly feel intimidated by her too.Both of you are a world away from home, not that you’re sure you have one exactly. You’ve moved a few times already, and when you visit family in the States in the summer, that feels most foreign of all. But Tobin...Tobin Heath, that’s her name, she’s fresh off the plane, new to the country, new to the school, and her mom’s a teacher there just like yours, and it feels like...It’s like maybe…You really want to be her friend.--Christen is 11-years-old and starting middle school and figuring out everything involved with that, and there's a new (older) girl at school who she really, REALLY wants to be friends with.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 39
Kudos: 162





	1. Fall Semester: 6th Grade

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, I already typed all of these notes out and then I stupidly cancelled the posting, and here I am again and I can't remember what I wrote. Okay. Um...I really didn't mean to start another multi-chapter fic, but then I found my old diary from when I was in 6th grade and I realized how utterly oblivious I was to the fact that I was so very clearly into girls (one in particular), and I kind of thought (with a lot of encouragement from JustCrushALot) that it needed to become a fic. Some of this is straight from the pages of my diary, some of it is more fictional (which will become more and more true as the story goes on and Christen grows up). I'll leave it up to you to decide which is which. (Hint: if you're like "Nobody could be that oblivious to being so gay" then it's probably almost verbatim from my diary. Don't judge. I was an idiot. I freely admit that.) There is (I think more in later chapters) talk about depression and suicidal thoughts, so if you're sensitive to that, be aware. As I am ALSO sensitive to that, though, there is nothing really graphic or explicit about it.  
> This is told in 2nd person, which I know some people don't like, but that's how this wanted to be told, so I hope you'll give it a chance anyway. I'm also trying something kinda novel if I can figure out how to get it to post properly.  
> Edited to add: I have taken several liberties with things like: age gaps between siblings (and in some cases number of and age of siblings) and dates of birthdays. It is fiction, after all.   
> Hope you enjoy!  
> xx

You see her for the first time when you’re 11: all windswept brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, tanned skin, broad smile. You see her and instantly feel drawn to her. You see her and instantly feel intimidated by her too.

Both of you are a world away from home, not that you’re sure you have one exactly. You’ve moved a few times already, and when you visit family in the States in the summer, that feels most foreign of all. But Tobin...Tobin Heath, that’s her name, she’s fresh off the plane, new to the country, new to the school, and her mom’s a teacher there just like yours, and it feels like...It’s like maybe…

You really want to be her friend. 

Even though Tobin’s a few years older, a few grades above you. 

(And you think maybe you’ve never seen anyone more beautiful. You’ve never seen more intense brown eyes, never seen such silky hair, never seen someone so composed, so apparently sure of themselves.) 

  
  


The first time you talk, Tobin isn’t really talking to YOU. She’s talking to Pinoe. Pinoe who is new too, who is another teacher’s kid, who lives in the same apartment building as you, who you’ve already met, already kind of know, already kind of made friends with. She used to live in Japan, just like one of your best friends, Yuki, and that’s pretty cool. Pinoe is only a year older than you, but feels more grown up and so it seems normal that she’s also already made friends with Tobin who’s older than both of you. 

Tobin is talking to Pinoe and you’re standing there because Pinoe’s mom is giving you a ride home today and school hasn’t really started yet and you’ve been tasked with taking her family to the marché and acting as translator for them. 

Tobin is talking to PINOE, so you stand there quiet and listen and hope that she won’t realize how young you are, how nervous you are, how you can feel a faint blush on your cheeks, how you can’t seem to take your eyes off of her. You hope she doesn’t realize that you’re a total weirdo who is basically just eavesdropping on their conversation. 

And they’re talking about dating and you kind of dated Nami back in 4th grade but it wasn’t like DATING dating. Like you only kissed like four times, and only once with tongue and it was - 

Well, it wasn’t really -

It was weird. You didn’t really understand the hype. 

Anyway you haven’t really dated anyone the way they’re talking about so you stand there and listen as Tobin says, “I don’t know. We were just really good friends, you know? It made it too weird. I couldn’t keep dating him. And, I know this is kind of silly, but I use like a different chapstick flavor when I date a new guy, so I gave him the chapstick to get rid of it, and he was like, ‘I can’t get rid of the chapstick because I can’t get rid of you!’ and I melted.”

And Pinoe’s going, “Awwwww,” so you make that sound too, even though you’re not really sure why that’s cute if she was done dating him and had said so. You play along, don’t focus too much on the guy she was dating, but more on the flavor of chapstick that she pulls out of her pocket and starts to apply just then, strawberry. 

You lick your lips and wonder what it tastes like. Maybe you’ll get some next time you go shopping. If they have strawberry flavored chapstick here, that is. 

And then Pinoe turns to you and says, “Hey, Christen, you’re in band right?” 

You nod, feeling your cheeks flush with Tobin’s brown eyes suddenly turn their focus to you. She’s so intimidating. You’re not sure you trust your voice to reply. 

And Tobin says, “Hey, cool! Me too. I play alto sax. What about you?” 

You swallow hard, wondering already how you’re supposed to be able to play any instrument when someone so pretty, someone so intimidating is going to be in the room with you, but you manage to squeak out, “Clarinet,” before the silence stretches out too uncomfortably long. 

You can’t help thinking that your instruments pair well together, that they’d work nicely in a duet. You wonder if you’ll get to play a duet with her. 

(You wonder if you could handle it.) 

It’s only once you’re sitting in the back of the Rapinoe’s car, Pinoe talking to you about how she’s thinking about playing both basketball and soccer this year, that you feel like you can breathe easily again. 

You hate that you’re so shy, that you’re so easily intimidated by someone as beautiful and confident as Tobin is. You hate knowing that you’re going to be nervous and awkward around her always. 

That’s no way to properly become her friend. 

Mrs. Heath is your homeroom teacher because of course she is. And she’s nice and she’s friendly and you very definitely do NOT tell her that you cannot stop thinking about her daughter because you’re not completely insane and you’re aware that it’s a little weird. 

You do mention her though, in a way that you hope is super casual and normal. You mention how you kind of met her, but not really. You mention that you’ll be in band together. You mention that you’re pretty shy. You mention that you have an idea about the “Classical Music Night” that was announced, but you’re not sure if Tobin would be interested. 

And Mrs. Heath says, “I can officially introduce you, if you want. I’m sure Tobin would love to play the sax with you for Classical Music Night.” 

Your heart beats a little faster in your chest at the idea that it might happen. You’d thought it was a longshot when you had the idea. Why would Tobin want to play with you, after all? But Mrs. Heath says it with such conviction, such an easy smile, that you kind of believe her. 

You believe her enough that you go to Mrs. Howell and you broach the idea with her. She instantly lights up at the idea, says she has some pieces that would be perfect, that it would be easy enough to transcribe a few clarinet/trumpet duets to clarinet/alto sax ones. Your heart feels like it’s beating a million miles a minute and it’s not until you’re in bed that night that you realize you’re completely counting your chickens before they’re hatched. Even if she agrees to play with you, it doesn’t mean you’ll automatically become good friends. 

  
  


You think about her a lot. It’s not like she’s all you think about, obviously. You hang out with Yuki and you go swimming with Pinoe and her twin sister, Rachel, and you are finally big enough to go to the marché without a grown up accompanying you as long as you go with friends, and you’re working on convincing Yuki that she really needs to teach you some Japanese because the language is just so cool. Plus you’re learning the 1st Clarinet pieces to audition for stage band, but of course every time you put the reed in your mouth to get ready to play, you think of Tobin playing the saxophone and how you really want to play something with her and it starts all over again. 

  
  


There’s a half day of school, but you have Senior Band practice after it, so you don’t actually get to leave. Not that you mind. You like band and Tobin will be there too, so, even though you don’t really talk to her in band EVER because you’re way too shy, at least you get to spend time with her. 

Tobin walks in with her big smile and her easy laugh and her signature ponytail and starts talking right away, and everyone else is settling into their seats, getting their instruments ready, and you’re fiddling with your clarinet while you just listen to her talk, listen to her words, but apparently everyone is being too quiet because she stops mid-sentence and says, “You guys are talkative, aren’t you?”

You stifle a giggle and she goes on. “

“Just don’t pay attention to me over here talking! You’re going to make me deaf!” 

You laugh, but you cover your mouth quickly. You don’t want her to think you’re laughing at her. She’s just so funny. It’s honestly kind of unfair that she’s this funny and this pretty. 

It’s kind of unfair that you’re younger and awkward and shy and still don’t know how to have a proper conversation with her even though you’re around her on a fairly regular basis at this point between seeing her around school and having band practices together. 

Why is making friends so hard? 

Why do you always have to find some people so damn intimidating? 

  
  


You don’t get a part in “Anne of Green Gables”. You try not to be upset. And then you find out that you’re first clarinet for the stage band for it and that eases your disappointment some. It all but evaporates when Mrs. Howell says, “Tobin’s going to be in stage band too.”

She says it as you’re packing up from Senior Band practice, and Tobin is still in the room and you see her perk up at the mention of her name. 

You hold your breath as she comes over, flashing that infectious smile of hers. Mrs. Howell has to go help Matt with his trumpet valve that keeps sticking so suddenly you’re standing in front of Tobin and it’s just the two of you and you think maybe all of the air has been pushed straight out of your lungs. 

“What’d she say about me?” Tobin asks in a tone of voice where it’s clear that she’s joking, she’s not actually suspicious of anything. 

And you find enough of your voice to mumble, “She just said that you’re going to be in the stage band, too.” Your cheeks feel hot and you wish for the millionth time that you weren’t so shy. 

Tobin grins wider. “Oh! Yeah! I am!” 

“Me, too,” you say, your voice painfully quiet, realizing a second too late that you’d implied that already. 

“Cool!” Tobin replies, the word coming out so easily. “Guess we’re going to be spending more time together.” 

The words hit you hard in the chest and you think maybe, maybe this is the start. Maybe this is where you begin to become friends. Maybe friendship is a real possibility here after all. 

And then she says, “Oh, and my mom said you wanted to do a duet for Classical Music Night?” and you feel your cheeks burn almost painfully in embarrassment that you couldn’t just go to her and ask her directly. No. She had to hear it from her mom. 

You nod feebly, and she says, “I’m down. I’ll talk to Mrs. H about music tomorrow,” and then she’s grabbing her saxophone case and heading out of the music room leaving you standing there, head reeling, thinking how she’s so pretty, so cool, probably one of your favorite people even though she barely even knows you. And then you think about how you’re always so shy around her because she’s older and she’s gorgeous and she’s smart and she’s just so intimidating. 

You hope she’ll understand. You hope she’ll be able to act like a semi-normal human being when you actually practice music with her. 

  
  


Tobin stops you on the way to math to tell you that she’s going to transpose some flute and clarinet duets into alto sax and clarinet duets. Yuki is with you and giving you a surprised look that this upperclassman is stopping you, talking to you. 

You try not to be so caught off guard that you can’t talk. It only kind of works. 

As she walks away with a, “Catch you later,” you feel your heart racing. 

Yuki leans in close as you start back towards your math classroom and says, “What was that about?” 

You shrug, try to act casual. “Just some music. We’re going to play together for the Classical Music Night.”

Yuki looks a little impressed. “Wow, really?”

You nod, feel your chest swell a little. “Yep!”

She’s on your intramural soccer team. Of course she is. And she’s on varsity soccer, which you only find out when you join it. She looks surprised when you see her and suddenly you’re thinking that maybe you should back out of this, maybe you shouldn’t actually be on two different soccer teams, even if you love the game. Playing with her on one team is enough, but varsity actually matters and you don’t want to drag the whole team down. 

But then she winks at you, and you feel your cheeks flush because it seems like the wink is saying, “I didn’t know you played soccer. Welcome to the team.” 

  
  


You can’t get her out of your mind. When she talks to you one day at school, randomly, you feel butterflies in your stomach for the rest of the day. When you’re doing homework at night your mind can’t help but flit back to the funny thing she said at band practice. When you’re lying in bed trying to fall asleep you think about how good she is at soccer, how lucky you are to have her on your team, how she was instrumental to your win against Sococe. 

You think about her all the time and you just -

God. You really just want to be her friend. 

Like the type of friend that you can call and not feel nervous before you dial her number. The type of friend who you can casually ask to hang out and not feel like maybe it’s a stupid idea, not worry that she’s only hanging out to be nice. The type of friend that you can have sleepovers with and stay up late talking to about everything and nothing. 

It feels like this longing ache in your chest because you’re sure it won’t happen. Not like that. Not in the way you so desperately want. 

You think of her so much, you think about how you’d love to call her your friend out loud and not just in your head, and you know that she probably barely thinks about you at all. 

  
  


Yuki comes over unexpectedly. It’s late and your mom was just hinting that maybe you should head to bed, but it turns out Yuki’s brother is over at the Rapinoe’s and so Yuki is there to hang out with you. It only takes some puppy eyes aimed at your mom, and then you’re both bouncing your way to the pool for a nighttime swim. 

The water is pleasantly cool in contrast to the warm night and you splash and jump and practice dives over and over until Yuki says, “Want to try a back dive?” 

You’re nervous at first, but Yuki does it and it looks kind of cool even if it looks a bit more like a back flop the first time. 

It takes a few tries and it feels a bit awkward, but soon enough you’re both doing back dives off the side of the pool and then racing across it, seeing who can get there first.

When you’re finally tired out, you go lay in your bed together, reading aloud from a book, talking about school and boys and soccer. 

“Tobin’s really good, don’t you think?”

“At soccer?” Yuki asks. 

At everything, you think, but you nod. 

“Yeah. For sure. You’re so lucky she’s on your team.”

You nod again. “I know, right?”

“Do you think she’s into Pierre?” 

Your heart seizes in your chest at the idea. Pierre’s cute and all, but he’s even older than her and you don’t think he’s really her type. “Nah,” you reply. 

And then Yuki changes the subject and you feel like maybe you can breathe again, but the thought lingers in your head far longer than you’d like. 

“Ugh, I play so much worse when the guy I like it watching!” Tobin laments, splashing water from her water bottle on her face. 

You watch the beads of water trickle down her neck. Her words make you feel a little unsettled, but you’re not sure why, and you look around, trying to figure out if that guy is here, who might be around, if she thinks she played badly today. 

(She did not. At all.)

Pinoe just laughs though. “Yeah. I get that. Hey are you and Pierre going to the Marine Ball together?” 

Tobin straightens up, and you wonder if that’s a faint blush on her cheeks. “Yeah. But, you know, just as friends.”

It feels sort of like you’re eavesdropping again, although Tobin definitely knows you’re there, is definitely angled so that she’s facing both of you. 

“I asked him to go with me and he said yes.” 

You shuffle your feet, look past her to where Crystal is still finishing her laps for track, feeling like a fish out of water as you so often do when it’s you and Tobin and Pinoe. 

They start walking towards the buildings and you don’t immediately follow, but then Pinoe looks back and says, “You coming?” and you hurry after them. 

They keep talking and you keep listening and not contributing anything at all until Tobin finally looks straight at you and says, “Are you scared of me or something?” 

Your eyes go wide and you open and close your mouth, wracking your brain for an answer that doesn’t make you sound like an idiot, but then Pinoe chimes in, “You make her nervous. She’s shy.” 

You simultaneously love her and hate her. 

But then Tobin smirks and says. “You have no reason to be afraid of me, Christen. I don’t bite.” 

You grin at the joke, feeling your cheeks flush, and then she adds, “Well, depends on who I’m biting.” 

You almost choke on the air you’re breathing, but Tobin and Pinoe are already moving on, talking about how Yoel asked Pinoe out and they’re going to a movie on Friday as their first date. 

You definitely do not, even for a second, consider if she would bite you, or what the context for that would even be. You don’t because if you did it would probably make you inexplicably hot all over and that would just make you even weirder than you already are. 

  
  


“Tobin, what do you look like with your hair down?” 

You’re feeling a little brave when you ask. Her hair is up all the time, always in that signature ponytail, but it looks so soft, so silky, you bet it looks beautiful down. 

“Terrible,” she replies. 

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you reply. What you’re really angling for, what you’re too nervous to actually ask for, is for her to show you, to take that elastic out and shake her silky hair over her shoulders so that you can see for yourself. 

She rolls her eyes, though, and you drop it. For a little while. 

Except later on you’re wondering again. You’re watching the way her ponytail bounces as she walks, and you’re both still waiting for your parents to be done with their faculty meeting so that you can head home and for once Pinoe isn’t around, it’s just the two of you. Maybe it’s because Pinoe isn’t there to monopolize the conversation or maybe it’s because she’s not there to talk for you, but you’re definitely feeling a little bold today, like you have to talk or yourself. 

“Please will you take your hair down for me?” 

“No,” Tobin replies, shaking her head and biting her lip. 

There’s a tinge of color on her cheeks from the heat of the afternoon sun and she looks simply stunning. 

“Please?” 

“No. I wouldn’t take it down for Johnny, I wouldn’t take it down for Marc, and I’m not going to take it down for you!”

You frown because you’re not sure why you’re being lumped with those guys. They’re older, they’re guys, and they’re definitely not here. 

Except Marc appears a few minutes later with Amandine and the whole dynamic shifts, there are other people again now, and you feel shy, nervous. Marc picks up on the hair thing, though, when you mutter it, and tries to grab her hair thing out of her hair. 

The sight somehow simultaneously thrills you and makes you uneasy. 

When he gets beckoned away by a friend, though, Tobin looks at you and pulls her hair thing out. Shakes her hair loose. 

“There. Terrible, like I said.” 

Your heart’s beating a little fast and your mouth feels a little dry and you barely manage to squeak, “Not even a little terrible,” before she’s putting her hair back up in a ponytail and flashing you a grin that sends butterflies rippling through your stomach. 

  
  


Pinoe and Rachel want new shirts and their dad wants a suit made and you’re still the resident French translator of the apartments so you go with them to Cocody Marché under the promise of pizza from La Dolce Vita afterwards. You weave your way quickly through the food section, the smells a cacophony in your nostrils rather than a symphony. You skirt around the barrel of oversized snails crawling all over each other. You’re used to them now so you’re a little amused when Pinoe and Rachel both wrinkle their noses and say, “Ew, gross.” 

You make your way up the stairs in what constitutes inside, moving past spaces that have been claimed by various vendors, some selling fine carvings of jade, some displaying the instruments they’ve made to sell, others taking orders for cabinets or other wooden constructions. You head towards the vendors of fabrics and clothes, helping Mr. Rapinoe negotiate first a price on the fabric and then a price on the suit itself, then you’re allowed to wander off with the twins while his measurements are taken. 

You lead them around, helping them bargain, advising when to walk away to make sure they get the best prices on the shirts they pick out in brightly colored, patterned fabrics. There’s never so much color in the States, you can’t help but think. People there have boring clothes. 

And then it’s time to head to pizza. 

You find yourself hanging back with Pinoe and out of the blue she says, “You don’t have to be scared of Tobin, you know.”

You swallow hard. Suddenly you feel uneasy, on edge, your heart pounding harder in your chest at the mention of her name. “She’s just intimidating,” you mumble, aware that trying to deny that you’re nervous around her is a waste of time with Pinoe. She’s seen it too many times up close. 

“She’s not, though. She’s nice. You should really just talk to her more.”

You manage a thin-lipped smile, a small nod, and then you’re rescued by Rachel shouting, “PIZZAAAAAA!!”

  
  


Zac is two grades above you and he’s kind of cute in a nerdy kind of way, but when he asks you to dance at the first middle school dance, you find yourself hesitating, unsure. You’ve talked before, you’re even friends in a loose definition of the word. His mom is another teacher at the school, after all, but you’re not really sure that you WANT to dance with him. 

“Fine, dis me,” he says, half teasing but half not, and you shrug, making him break into a smile. 

You know he’s taken it as a yes. 

And then he’s nice, and he smells kind of good, like he’d showered right before he came, and even though his hands are a little sweaty where they rest loosely at your back, it’s kind of pleasant to dance with him. He talks to you while you dance and when Blake comes over and tries to cut in, asks ZAC instead of you if he can dance with you, you shoot him down in favor of Zac. 

Nobody else asks you all night, but when Zac waves goodnight to you at the end of the night, you think that’s just fine. 

Besides, you had more fun dancing with Yuki anyway. 

The Heaths pick you up from a friend’s house to go to stage band practice on a Sunday. Mr. Heath is driving while you and Tobin sit in the back. 

At first you’re silent and shy, your chest feels tight, and she keeps looking at you. You can practically feel her gaze. 

And then she nudges your leg with hers and you practically jump. 

“You nervous about playing 1st clarinet?” she asks. “Aaaall those people in the audience listening?”

There’s the hint of a smirk on her lips and you know she’s teasing, but you feel your body tense anyway. You try to play it cool, though. “Not really. It’s just another band performance.” 

Tobin nods, silence resumes between you while Mr. and Mrs. Heath talk in the front seat, and then Tobin says, “I get kind of nervous. Before every performance, I mean. Not really practice.” 

The words surprise you. Tobin gives off so much confidence: the way she holds herself, the way she talks. You didn’t think she had a nervous bone in her body. You’re so surprised that you find yourself admitting, “Yeah, me too,” before you can think better of it. 

“And then it feels like there’s never enough time to practice between homework and soccer and,” she waves vaguely around the car, “random Sunday band practices.”

You nod, unsure why she’s opening up to you like this, but each word echoes in your head, ringing so incredibly true. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You feel like it rings hollow, like she won’t quite believe that you’re stressed about things like time and homework when you’re a few years younger than her and she’s already in High School and everything, but she just offers you a smile. “Anyway, you’re gonna rock your solo.” 

You blush and mumble a quick, “Thanks,” and you’re both sad and relieved when the conversation dies down the rest of the way to school. 

  
  


You start having dress rehearsals for your next band concert at Hotel Ivoire in the evenings. You’re wedged in between Lo and Lauren and Tobin is standing in front of you, your stand in front of her, borrowed so that she can play her Jazz Band songs. 

She’s right in front of you, right there, with her silky hair up in its usual ponytail and her saxophone hanging from the strap around your neck, and she’s so close you could reach out and touch her, but of course you don’t. 

You do, however, stupidly mutter, “Oh no! I’m scared of her! Why does she have to stand right in front of me?” to Lo, who giggles. 

You hope that you’re quiet enough that no one else heard. 

Then Tobin moves over a little so she’s only half in front of you, which is both better and worse because now you can see the profile of her face and she’s just so pretty all the time, but at least you feel less trapped by her presence now, so you murmur, “Phew! That’s better.”

As if she’s heard you, she turns at that exact moment and smiles at you, then winks right at you before turning back to face the music stand and get ready to play. 

You barely manage to squeak out, “Maybe not,” as Lo dissolves into a fit of laughter. 

(You follow along on Tobin’s music as Jazz Band plays, sounding so good already. If your eyes are on her music, they’re not on her. It seems like a good idea.)

  
  


Two days later you’re behind her again at Hotel Ivoire, but she hasn’t turned around, hasn’t acknowledged your presence, and that’s okay because you’re still just nervous having her this close to you. It’s ridiculous really because you’ve known her for like two months already and you know her parents and you’ve even had conversations with her oldest sister who’s a senior, but there’s something about Tobin, this magnetic element to her personality that draws you in and intimidates you all in one go. 

You’re almost breathing easy because Jazz Band is about to start playing and then Tobin will move back to her normal seat for Senior Band, but then she turns around and says, “Enjoy the concert,” smiling right at you, and you think you might actually stop breathing for a few seconds. 

Lo laughs beside you and you shoot a glare her way. 

  
  


You make it through Stage Band and through watching half of play rehearsal, when Tobin and Pierre see you sitting there and offer you a ride home in Pierre’s car. 

If you had any sense at all you’d say no. 

Instead you check with your mom, who says that that’s fine since they won’t be done directing rehearsal for another hour yet. 

You get in the back while Tobin gets in the passenger side in the front and you sit there internally freaking out, fingers clasped tightly in your lap, eyes glued to the scenes passing by outside the window, but ears tuned into the conversation in the car. 

“Are you guys going out tonight?” Tobin asks, and you wonder desperately who she’s talking about, but you don’t dare ask and Pierre says no anyway. 

At the very least, though, it’s a strong hint that Tobin and Pierre aren’t actually dating.

You try to imagine having a life where you get to go out at night, drive places by yourself, meet up with friends without your parents having to drop you off. It feels like a world that is still too far away, too grown up, but Tobin seems like she’s already got one foot in that world, and you can’t help being a little jealous of the people she gets to share that with. 

On the night of the second middle school dance, you dance with Blake twice. He asks you both times even though he’s kind of dating Amy. The second time you dance it’s in front of the DJs who just happen to be a bunch of Tobin’s classmates, not to mention former students of your mom who’ve known you since you were seven. You can hear them gently teasing you and you feel your cheeks flush and you kind of can’t wait until the song is over and you can move away from Blake and the way his shirt is half stuck to his back with sweat. 

And then you end up standing next to Dom, who’s so quiet in class and doesn’t really talk to the teachers, doesn’t really talk to the other girls, but does talk to you. It makes you feel special in a way that you don’t really want to analyze. 

But then two of the chaperones say, “Come on, you two, why don’t you dance? There are only a few songs left!” and you look at Dom who looks shyly back at you and you feel a slight flip in your stomach as you swallow and nod. 

You’re barely touching, your hands more hovering above his shoulders than resting on them, and just his fingertips brush your back, but one of the chaperones says, “Come on, she doesn’t bite,” and nudges you in a bit closer. 

His hands are warm through your shirt and he smells really nice, and he keeps looking at you through those long eyelashes of his, and smiling just a little, so you scoot closer, your front almost touching his, your arms around his neck, and it feels -

It’s nice. 

Your heart is beating a little fast and part of you wishes that the chaperones weren’t still lingering right nearby because then it would just be the two of you and that seems kind of nice, too. The song seems to last forever as you slowly sway together, and when it finally ends you’re slow to move away. You feel a little bit proud of Dom for not putting up a fuss about the close contact, but you also don’t dance together again. 

It’s only once you’re at home later, writing in your diary that you think to yourself that maybe, possibly, you have a crush on him. 

  
  


Tobin seems to be around Pinoe more and more and since you’re always hanging out with Pinoe, half because you’ve become pretty good friends and half because of the convenience of living in the same place, you end up seeing Tobin a lot more socially too. That’s how you find out that Tobin’s suffered from depression on and off, though you have trouble understanding why. She’s amazing. Truly. 

That’s also how you learn that she got drunk at Crystal’s party. That information thrills you a little, but also makes you feel like you’re missing out, like you’re too young, and so you linger just a little far away, not wanting to intrude, not wanting to remind them of how you’re still in sixth grade, even if you’ve always been mature for your age. 

Pinoe keeps telling you that if you just came over, if you just listened, Tobin would keep talking, keep sharing. You think she’s right, because sometimes Pinoe doesn’t even seem to notice how close you are, but Tobin always does, always meets your gaze, just for a moment, and then keeps going, keeps talking. 

  
  


It’s late one night, almost time for you to head back to your apartment, and Tobin is over at Pinoe’s. Rachel is off reading in her room and Pinoe has gone to the bathroom and it’s just you and Tobin sitting on Pinoe’s bed. 

You’re painfully aware of how close you are to her, how there’s nobody else around, and how you can’t seem to think of anything to say. 

Except Tobin then says, “Do you think I’m going to hurt you?” 

You feel your cheeks flush and you bashfully shake your head. 

“Is that why you’re so nervous around me?”

You shrug this time, and Tobin scoots closer on the bed, her brown eyes boring into you. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I like you, Christen.” 

You swallow hard, her words echoing in your head sounding far too loud, making you feel a little dizzy. 

And then she says, “Stick out your pinky.”

Reluctantly you do, unsure of what she’s up to. She hooks her pinky through yours, the touch hot to your skin. 

“Now kiss your thumb.” 

“Why?” The word is out before you can think better of it, but she just rolls her eyes and says, “Just do it.” 

You do, acutely aware of her hand right there, touching yours as you do so. Then she kisses her thumb, too, her hair ticking your wrist as a stray strand falls forward and then she’s pressing her thumb against yours. 

“Pinky promise,” she says, the promise sealed with your kisses, the spot where your lips had touched pressed tightly to the one where hers had. 

You feel your cheeks burn and you try not to think about it. 

(Except you think about it for days on end.)


	2. Spring Semester: 6th Grade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christen goes through some rough times, some fun times, and the threat of a big move lingers over her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with some mental health issues including depression and some suicidal ideation, as a heads up to anyone sensitive to that. I am too, so I've tried not to make it graphic or anything.   
> Hope you enjoy the chapter! If you do, let me know your thoughts!  
> xx

You get braces when you’re in the States for Christmas vacation and you hate them instantly. You get glow in the dark and gold elastics on them, but the glow in the dark doesn’t even glow. 

On top of that, the whole time you’re away all you can think about is Pinoe and Tobin. You miss them horribly and count down the days until you’re back in a place that feels far more like home than your grandmother’s house even though the language all around you isn’t English and the culture there isn’t technically your own. Different feels more normal to you than the day to day in the States. 

You think about the soccer camp you went to in the States one summer, about how the kids had never heard of the country, let alone the city you lived in, about how they’d made all sorts of assumptions, asked so many stupid questions about if you lived in a mud hut, if you had a pet lion, etc… It had driven you crazy. You’d felt like you’d stood out like a sore thumb, and you’d hated it, unsure of how to find your place, of how you could sound right but act wrong in this place that you’re supposedly from. You hadn’t gone back the next summer even though your soccer game had definitely improved. 

  
  


You can’t wait to see your friends again. You have to physically stop yourself from running up to Tobin and giving her a hug when you finally do. Pinoe has no such restraint with you, lifting you clear off your feet and making you laugh. 

It feels so good to be back when you’re tucked up in Pinoe’s room, Rachel stretched out on her bed, and you’re telling each other all about your vacations, exchanging the little presents you picked up for each other on your travels. 

You find out with a pang of jealousy that Lindsey’s been back for a while already, since before New Year’s, which means that she got to spend New Year’s Eve at the Heath’s house. She got to hang out with Tobin until 3 in the morning. You don’t think you’ve ever stayed up that late, though you’ve definitely been up that early to make transatlantic flights. And Pinoe wasn’t just awake that late, but OUT that late. And with Tobin. 

You try not to let your jealousy show. 

You think you do a good job. 

  
  


The first day back at school sees the delivery of Christmas candygrams, even though it’s after Christmas. You got some for a few friends, a lot of them older, people your parents have directed in plays or taught. And, of course, you got one for Tobin. Everyone gives you a hug as a thank you, but the one that makes you feel anxious and nervous and brilliantly excited all at the same time comes from Tobin, her arms warm as they wrap around you, her hair smelling like flowers as you bury your face in it, just for a second. 

And then she pulls away and grins, says, “Thanks,” again.

You’re left feeling so awkward and speechless that you completely forget to give her the ornament that you got for her too, and end up giving it to Pinoe to give to her, even though Pinoe rolls her eyes at you for, once again, being too scared to approach Tobin. 

And now Tobin’s going to think you’re weird. 

Which you are. 

You totally are.

  
  


You see Tobin again after school. The spring play has been announced and it’s going to be “The Miracle Worker”. There’s no stage band this time around so you get up the nerve to ask if she’s going to audition. 

“Yeah. It’d be cool to get a part. I’d love to play Annie Sullivan.”

You grin at her. “Me too. I’m hoping I get Helen Keller. I’ve already learned the sign language alphabet.” 

You try not to think about how much time you’d spend together, in close contact, if you both get cast in the roles you want. You try not to get too excited. There’s no guarantee either of you will get the parts you want. 

Just then Pinoe spots you across the courtyard and yells out, “Yay! You’re talking to Tobin!” and you feel your cheeks flush, and you shift on the balls of your feet awkwardly, and you think that maybe Pinoe is actually your most annoying friend. 

  
  


(You get cast as Martha in “The Miracle Worker” and Yuki gets the part of Helen Keller. Tobin doesn’t get the part of Annie either. Christine Sinclair gets it instead. You try not to think that at least Yuki won’t be the one spending all her time with Tobin.)

You come up to Pinoe one lunch time just as she’s paying and call out to her happily. She’s really one of your best friends, even if she’s only been here for half a year already. 

“Chris!” she greets you. “I would kiss you, but, you know...there are reasons.” 

You roll your eyes, feeling your insides flutter. Why would she kiss you? What are the reasons she wouldn’t? Pinoe’s so cool, but she’s so crazy, too. Sometimes you just don’t get what she means. 

You eat lunch together and forget all about the comment. 

Almost. 

  
  


You’ve been feeling a little down on and off. It’s not that big of a deal. Not really. It kind of started around Christmas in the States and you thought that it would go away now that you’re back at school, but it feels like your classmates have all of these expectations, like they’re waiting for you to mess up, to not get the A, to get kicked out of Senior Band, to turn their backs on you. And then there’s your parents, the way that it feels like they expect you to always be the perfect student, the perfect daughter, to never make a mistake, never act up in class. 

It’s made worse by the fact that your mom is your science teacher this year and, because your social studies teacher is a bit on the useless side, the whole sixth grade combines classes for that and she’s basically your teacher for that too. You can’t stop yourself from talking back some days and she takes none of it. 

It’s like she doesn’t remember being eleven at all, like she doesn’t remember what it’s like to have your parents around ALL the time, expecting perfection, embarrassing you in front of your friends and your classmates. 

You remember Tobin saying that she’s been depressed and you think maybe this is a hint of what you have.

But it seems silly, too. You feel stupid for feeling down, so you try to push it away, try not to let the occasional thought of, “What if I stopped being here, stopped existing?” to come through. You don’t really have a reason to be depressed. You’re just a little down. Things will be fine. 

  
  


At the third middle school dance you don’t dance with Dom. You think maybe that crush has gone away. You don’t think about him that much. Not really. 

You DO dance with Blake again. He tells you that Nima called you a bitch at the first school dance and the words sting more than you’d like to admit. 

You and Yuki have fun though. Mostly. 

Mostly, that is, until you end up in tears with Yuki on one side of you and Pinoe on the other side of you, huddled in the stairwell of the apartment building, and the worst part is that you’re not even entirely sure why you’re crying. You were fine, you were enjoying your night, and then you weren’t. 

Pinoe pats you on the head as you rest it on her shoulder and says, “You’re like a little sister to me, Chris. I worry about you.” 

You don’t really have words to answer her, so you sniffle and take comfort from her touch instead while Yuki squeezes your hand. 

  
  


You’re not sure exactly when you stopped having confidence in yourself. You remember being so sure of everything not that long ago, but now -

It’s like things never play out anymore the way that you see them wanting to go in your head. You don’t get the parts you want in plays, you don’t play the music the way you want to, school feels like a chore instead of fun, the homework keeps piling up, and you no longer have any faith that you’ll be able to keep this up. 

How are you supposed to keep getting the As, keep at the top of your class, keep playing 1st clarinet in Senior Band and french horn in Junior Band and go to play rehearsals and be dragged to teacher dinners with your parents and have to stay extra late while your dad works on lighting and still also just be an eleven-year-old? How are you supposed to take all of these pressures and be social, keep your friends, wade into the world of dating properly? How is this all supposed to work when every day it feels like you’re more and more unsure of yourself? 

Smiling starts to feel like a chore rather than a given. You start to be able to count the number of times you smile in a day. 

It’s usually around Tobin or Pinoe, you realize. More than anyone else they seem to be able to coax the smiles out, even if they’re mostly nervous smiles in Tobin’s case. 

You start thinking about the two of them in your darkest moments, replaying interactions you’ve had, wondering if they’ve felt these things, if they’d get it, if they’d care if you just…

You wouldn’t, really. 

You don’t think.

But you think about it sometimes. 

  
  


You run into Tobin in Hayat one Saturday while you’re shopping with your mom. She gives you a wide smile and a wave that makes you automatically smile in return. Your first smile of the day. 

Your heart does that thing it always seems to do around her where it skips a beat. Half a year you’ve known her and the longing to be her friend, to really know her, is not lessened at all from the very first moment you laid eyes on her. 

“Hey, Christen,” she greets you when you’re a little closer, and you glance at your mom, wonder if she’d let you hang out with Tobin for a bit. Then you wonder if Tobin would even want that. Despite the greeting, you’re unsure. 

“Hey,” you reply more quietly than she had. 

“Shopping is so exciting isn’t it?” The sarcasm makes you smile again. 

“Super,” you agree, and when Tobin laughs it puts this pressure right in the center of your chest. 

Your moms get to talking which leaves you standing there together, but then all too soon they’re moving along, shopping to finish. You wave a reluctant goodbye and get back to your Saturday with your parents. 

You don’t smile again. 

  
  


You have her number. Pinoe gave it to you. You’ve had it for a few weeks, but you’ve never dared to use it. 

What would you say? “Hey, this is the weird girl who really wants to be your friend but you probably want nothing to do with”? 

You have her number and you know she’s felt depressed, that she’s even contemplated -

You have her number and it’s late and she smiled at you at the store earlier and you feel like crying. Again. For no reason. You feel the weight of things closing in on you and you think maybe -

Your hands shake as you pick up the phone, stretching the cord down the hall so that you can prop your feet up on the wall opposite. Your parents are out, just at a fellow teacher’s apartment and they’re not due to be back for a while, and Channing is at a friend’s house for a sleepover. You dial her number, breathless as the line rings, half hoping that no one answers, and then someone does. 

“Hello!” 

You recognize her voice instantly, but still you ask, “Hello, is Tobin there?”

“This is she,” Tobin replies. 

“Hey, Tobin, this is Christen.”

Your heart is racing in your chest, your hand is shaking where it’s holding the receiver to your ear, and you’re thinking that this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done in your life, but then she sounds happy when she says, “Oh, hey!”

Already you’re backpedaling, thinking you should apologize, maybe you should just hang up. Things aren’t that bad. You don’t really need to talk to someone about it. 

“You might find it a little strange me calling you, but -”

“There is very little that I find strange,” she cuts you off. 

It gives you a small boost of confidence. 

“Okay, well...I have a question.”

“What?”

You swallow hard. Your heart is beating so fast that you think it might just fly right out of your chest. “Do you trust me? I mean, just out of curiosity, would you trust me with something?”

There’s no hesitation when she answers, “Yeah!”

You swallow again, willing yourself to be brave enough to just ask. Because if someone as amazing as Tobin has thought these things, if she’s thought it and she’s still here, still sending those smiles your way, then maybe you’re not alone in this, maybe things will work out okay. “Have you ever been depressed? Or...or wanted to kill yourself?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and you can hear the change in her tone when she says, “Yes. Twice.” 

“What kept you going through that?” 

There’s another pause, this one longer, and your whole arms are shaking now as nervous adrenaline courses through you. 

“Christen, do you want to kill yourself?” 

The word no is on the tip of your tongue. And it’s the truth. You think. Maybe. But you’re not sure, either, so you whisper, “Yeah.” You haven’t said it aloud to anyone, but now it’s out there, and Tobin knows, she knows and you can hear the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, and you instantly want to take it back, to change your mind, to tell her you’re wrong, you weren’t just laying in your room wondering if anyone would actually notice if you were gone. 

“Christen, don’t. It won’t solve anything. The first time I wanted to I was in sixth grade, too, and...Don’t, okay? Why do you want to? What’s so bad?”

All of the reasons that rush out of your mouth feel stupid, but she doesn’t say that they are. Instead she says, “Yeah, I get it. A lot of that rings true to me, too.” 

And you breathe out a shaky breath. Someone gets it. Someone understands. 

“When I’ve thought about it, though, I’ve thought about all the people I would hurt. Christen, if you killed yourself, you would hurt so many people. Think of all of the people that love you: my mom, your parents, your sisters -”

The words surprise you. Tyler is already off at college and Channing is still in elementary school. How would Tobin even know that they exist? “How did you know I have sisters?” 

She sounds momentarily smug when she says, “I just did.” But then her voice turns serious again as she says, “Think of all those people that love you and care for you. Your parents, your sister...me.”

It feels like someone has just pushed all of the air out of your lungs. Your whole body is shaking now and you feel like you can barely breathe as she continues. 

“Christen, I cannot express my feelings about you. I care for you more than you will ever know. Christen, you’d hurt so many people.”

It doesn’t seem real. The words that she says sit heavily in your chest and a swirl of emotions you don’t really understand take hold of you, but you know she’s telling the truth, can hear it in her voice. She cares about you. You’re not nobody to her. 

And then you hear your parents at the front door. You know you’re still shaking. It’s clear in your voice as you say, “I have to go. I have to get off the phone.” 

“Christen?”

“Thank you, Tobin.” You hope you can convey the sincerity of your words, the way that it feels somehow like she’s changed your whole life just in the span of this small conversation. 

“Hi honey! Oh, you’re on the phone. Could you wrap it up? I need to make a call!” your mother greets you from the door and you nod, hoping she can’t see how shaken up you are, how close to tears. 

“Keep your head up, Christen. And have confidence in yourself.” 

“I’ll try,” you reply. 

“Christen, you can talk to me any time...Promise me you won’t do anything without talking to me first?”

“Christen!” your mother calls out a reminder. 

You fumble over your words, your attention now split. “Uh...my mom has to make a call.”

“Do you promise you won’t do anything without talking to me first?” she presses. 

“Yeah.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.” And you mean it. You won’t. You don’t think you’ll even have to use the offer. You wouldn’t have...you don’t think. You’re...you’re not alone. Someone understands why you’re down. All of the reasons that you’ve dismissed as silly and unreasonable, someone understands them. And that someone is Tobin Heath. She understands and she cares and that -

It means more to you than you can say. 

“Bye, Christen.”

“Bye, Tobin.”

  
  


You run up to Pinoe’s apartment to talk to her before you have to go to bed, and she greets you at the door saying, “I know you talked to Tobin for a long time.”

You stand there stunned for a moment before asking, “How do you know that?” 

Pinoe shrugs. “She called four times so I decided to call her back and she admitted it to me.” 

She drags you to her room, sits you on her bed and says, “So tell me.”

“Tell you what?” you play innocent. 

“What you guys talked about. I mean, I know you guys were talking about life.” 

“Death is more like it,” you mumble, and Pinoe rolls her eyes. 

“She told you about wanting to kill herself?” 

You nod. 

“Both times?”

“Yeah. I was trembling through the whole conversation,” you admit. You’re still kind of shaking, but not nearly as bad. 

“When Tobin said that you guys had talked for a long time I screamed,” Pinoe says in that bubbly, excited way she has. 

“I’m much happier now,” you admit, feeling your cheeks flush. 

“I knew you would be if you talked to Tobin. See? Tobin can really help!”

“I know,” you agree. Even though you’re closer to Pinoe, you spend more time with Pinoe and Yuki and other friends too, Tobin’s words have had the most impact. 

“I can tell you’re happier,” Pinoe says with a smile, then pulls you into a hug that you only half return. 

  
  


Calling Tobin becomes a bit of a habit for you. At first it’s just to say thank you. And then it’s because you already have twice and you’ve had a bad day and you just want to hear her voice. 

And then it’s because you’ve talked more now and it’s actually starting to feel like the type of friendship you’d hoped for with her from the start. 

Everytime you talk, you hang up with a smile on your face and your whole body feeling lighter. 

And then your parents tell you you’re moving. They’re heading to job fairs. It’s time to move on. They’ve grown as much as they can professionally here. 

They really don’t understand you at all. 

It starts to feel like you fight with your parents every day. Everything they say rubs you the wrong way, and they won’t listen to a word you say about not wanting to move. They dismiss the fact that all of your friends are here, that this is where you go to school, where your whole life is. This place feels like home after five years. They want to uproot you, move you across the world to who knows where, make you start all over where you know no one. You call Yuki every night, telling her how much it sucks, how your parents don’t understand at all, how when they’re home all you do is fight and then half the time they’re gone anyway, flying away to job fairs and leaving you with whatever neighbors they see fit, not caring about the way it interferes with your life. At least for the next one you get to spend your weekends with Yuki and her family. Her parents are so loving, so present. You love spending time there. It feels as much like home as your apartment does. Maybe more. 

  
  


The start of Easter Break marks the second night of “the Miracle Worker” performances. You’ve been rehearsing a LOT, helping Yuki learn her lines, making sure you know your own, remembering the blocking and your entrances and exits. 

You’re so tired of picking grits out of the carpet on stage after “Helen” throws a fit in one scene that you would be quite happy if you never had to look at grits ever again. 

The start of Easter Break also marks the start of a week without Pinoe. Her whole family is going to London and all you can think is that you’re going to miss her so much. 

After the performance you hug her tight and you don’t really want to let go, but eventually you do, only to give her another hug right away. 

  
  


You and Yuki get congratulated a lot after the final performance, but you both felt a bit sick. You’d spent the afternoon at your house spinning in circles and eating cookie dough. You’re a bit sad because Pinoe and Rachel are gone for Easter, but you have a cast party to go to and you’re tired and still a little nauseous, so you try not to focus on it. You try not to focus on the way that Tobin is going to prom with Marc, either. As friends, she says. Pinoe told you as friends, too. 

You don’t know why it bothers you. 

You’re walking down into the faculty room after the cast party, and you see Tobin. She gives you this smile that makes you feel less tired, and you’ve been giving so many hugs (everyone in the cast has hugged you, you think, except Tobin), so you hold out your arms, and she walks into them, hugging you tightly. 

You breathe her in and she smells sweet and clean and a little bit like what you think home should smell like, and you feel every inch of the hug, every inch of her pressed against you. It’s comforting and thrilling in a way you don’t understand, but it’s enough that when you see her again later, both of you heading out with your moms, you ask for another hug, and she gives it willingly. 

She holds you even closer, and you squeeze your arms around her. You don’t want this hug to stop. 

But then she’s murmuring, “You did a really good job, sweetie,” into your hair and stepping back. 

So you mumble, “You too,” with your cheeks burning, thinking about how silly she was at the cast party, how much fun you’d had, how she’d made you smile so much tonight. 

  
  


Easter Monday feels like the best day in the world. 

For starters: Pinoe is back. They loved England, which warms your heart because that was your home before this was. Pinoe gifts you some perfume that’s the same as the scent she wears and you put it on immediately. 

You spend her whole first morning back at her place, showing off your haircut (which she likes and tells you it makes you look older), catching up on everything that happened, listening to her new CDs, and watching her try on all of her new clothes for you. 

Then at 3:15, Tobin comes over. To your apartment. 

Tobin Heath is standing in your living room, holding her saxophone and looking as pretty as ever so that you can practice your duet for the Variety Show (which is what Classical Music Night has turned into). 

It starts off a little rough as neither of you has ever played the song before and you keep trying to play softly because you’re so nervous around Tobin, STILL, despite all of the conversations and the interactions and the hugs even. 

Your tension must be radiating off of you because she says, “I don’t bite, Christen.” Then adds, “Usually,” with a smirk.”

The words make your breath catch in your throat, and do nothing to ease your nerves. 

You’re scared of messing up, too, of making a fool of yourself in front of her. So you play quieter and quieter until Tobin finally turns to you and threatens, “If you don’t play louder, I’m not going to play at that part and you can have a solo!” 

You play louder immediately after that. 

You practice for about an hour and then she says, “We’ll play one more time and then go up to the Rapinoe’s.” 

So you do, you go together, and you’re barefoot (because who really likes shoes anyway), and Tobin’s saying, “You’re going to get glass in your foot,” (which you don’t), and then you’re bounding up the familiar stairs two at a time and she’s calling after you to wait for her (so you do), and then it’s you and Tobin and Pinoe and Rachel, all hanging out. 

It feels nice. You don’t feel like the young one in the group for a change. You just feel like part of the group. 

But all too soon Tobin is saying, “I’ve got to go to Librairie de France.” She turns to Pinoe and asks, “Wanna come?” Then turns to Rachel and echoes the question. 

You’re already mouthing to Pinoe to not go, to not leave you. You’re not ready for this wonderful day to end. 

But then Tobin turns to you and you close your mouth quickly, and she smiles and says, “Wanna come?” to you too. 

Tobin Heath inviting you out somewhere with her feels like the impossible actually happening. 

Pinoe reminds you how annoying of a friend she can be when she says, “Let’s let Christen decide.” 

Rachel grins and says the same, and then Tobin is echoing it too, eyes glued on you, smirk on her lips. 

“Thanks guys,” you mutter. “Sure.” You glare at Pinoe, but somewhere inside your heart is soaring. 

  
  


The Librairie de France closest to you is closed, but the one at Sococe isn’t so you go there, squished in the backseat of a taxi beside Pinoe. 

You stay silent on the way there, but once you’re there Tobin can’t find what she’s looking for, so she looks straight at you and says, “Christen? Since you speak French, will you ask where the notebooks are?” 

You start to turn to ask someone, but the words, “You’re such a sweetheart,” chase after you. 

You swallow hard and mutter, “Not quite.” Tobin’s just lucky. You like her. As a friend. You don’t mind translating for her. 

On the taxi ride back you end up squished next to Tobin and you’re not sure you breathe for the entire ride. 

You break off from Pinoe and Rachel, promising to come up to their apartment later, and you stay with Tobin as she gets her sax from your place and calls for another taxi to take her home. You sit on the front steps with her and you’re still nervous, but you’ve just spent basically the whole afternoon with her. It feels like so much time and not enough all at the same time. 

When you wave goodbye to her and head back up to the Rapinoe’s apartment, you think it’s really silly how you miss her when you’re not with her, but then when you are you’re too nervous to even be yourself. 

And somehow she seems like she wants to keep spending time with you anyway. 

  
  


Things with your parents are...tense. 

You don’t understand why Channing isn’t more upset about moving. She just seems happy to go with the flow, happy to stay with friends whenever your parents are off having interviews on different continents. She doesn’t get that they’re basically abandoning you, pawning you off on other people, just so they can move you away from all of your friends. She doesn’t understand that at the end of this school year you’re moving to a different country on a different continent where you don’t speak the language and don’t know a single person. 

Your parents don’t care. They’ve accepted an offer. You’re moving to Colombia whether you like it or not. 

  
  


You’re walking to the gate after school, wishing that you didn’t have to head home with her, wishing that you could spend more time with your friends instead, especially since that time is apparently running out. Mrs. Heath is just in front of you and even though Tobin isn’t with her, you wish you were walking with her. Between her being your homeroom teacher and just the general bond that exists between you and the other teachers with kids at the school, she almost feels like a second mom to you, except she’s one that you actually enjoy spending time with, whose teasing doesn’t drive you insane but instead makes you laugh. 

You’re almost at the gate when your mother says, “Don’t snap at your father this afternoon, please.” 

Mrs. Heath glances over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow at you. 

“I won’t because if I do Mrs. Heath will yell at me,” you reply with a grin at her. 

“That’s right,” Mrs. Heath replies, hanging back to join the conversation. “I yell at her.”

Never meanly, though. Not like your parents. Half the time you laugh when she yells. 

“You shout at me,” you accuse playfully. 

“I shout at her when she snaps at you too, you just don’t know it,” Mrs. Heath tells your mom, who has to ruin the moment by saying, “Maybe we should take Mrs. Heath to Bogotà with us.”

You don’t need the reminder that you’re moving. The idea of the Heaths coming too, though...that’s…That would be -

“Noooo!” you wail in mock dismay. 

“There could be worse fates,” Mrs. Heath says with a wink. 

“Like what?” you challenge. 

“You still have time with me in homeroom between now and the end of the year,” she teases. 

You keep it to yourself that you wish you had even more time with that. 

You wonder, just for a moment, if the Heaths would consider adopting you. 

  
  


You perform with Tobin at the Variety Night and your heart is beating in your throat the entire time. You’re nervous to perform just the two of you. You’re nervous to share the stage with her. You’re nervous about the audience hearing you, you’re nervous about messing up, and you’re nervous about having to stand there beside someone so pretty, so talented, and pretend like you belong there. 

You perform with Tobin at the Variety Night and you have no choice but to control your breathing because you’re playing a wind instrument. You should’ve been playing piano instead. Then you could hyperventilate during the song and everything would be fine. 

You perform with Tobin at the Variety Night and you miraculously only fumble your fingers once, and you know that Tobin knows and Mrs. Howell knows, but nobody else seems to notice, and at the end the applause rushes through you. 

Tobin shoots you the biggest smile, and when you walk offstage, she gives you a tight hug, and you feel like you’re walking on air. 

“You did great, sweetie!” she tells you, and you return the compliment because it’s true, she did. 

And then she pulls away and you realize that it’s over. You’ve played the song with her. There will be no more practices for the two of you. Your excuse to have extra time with her has vanished. 

Suddenly you don’t feel quite so good anymore. 

You end up at Hotel Ivoire on prom night. Obviously you’re not GOING to prom. You’re in sixth grade. You’re going to a movie with Pinoe, Rachel, and Yuki. But the four of you get there early and you sneak into the outer room where everyone is gathering for pictures before actually going in to prom. Everyone looks gorgeous. Everyone is happy and there’s this excited buzz in the air, but the one person you’re desperately hoping to catch sight of you don’t get to see. 

The seniors make you well up a little though. You’ve known them since they were eighth graders, after all. And they’re heading off, heading away from the safety of this place and this school, just like you’re going to be. 

You linger as long as you dare before you’re going to be late to see the movie, and then Pinoe drags you away. 

When you get home at 1 a.m. you think about what an amazing night it was, but then you think about the one person you didn’t get to see, and suddenly it seems like maybe it could have been a little better.

  
  


The night of the last middle school dance, you dance more than you have at any of the others. It sort of feels like you might as well. What’s holding you back? It’s hard to feel embarrassed around people you know you’re going to be leaving for good in a few weeks. 

You dance with Zac and it feels like you’ve come full circle from the first one. Then Nima asks you to dance and mumbles an apology for the way you two haven’t really been friends so much this year. You think it’s just because you’re leaving, but you accept the apology anyway. 

This isn’t just the last middle school dance of the year for you. For you it’s your last school dance at this school. Period. At all. 

The knowledge puts an ache in your chest. 

You linger even after the dance ends at 10:30 and hang out and talk to people you really haven’t paid enough attention to this year. It’s not a deep conversation or a meaningful one. It’s stupid, really, about what if a firework spark doesn’t go out and lands on a house, but it’s nice to just talk and relax and be in the moment with these people that you’ve known for years. 

  
  


“You’re leaving, you bum!” Pinoe whines it when you have to go in from swimming on a Saturday afternoon to pack. 

You laugh despite the ache in your chest and the hint of tears behind your eyes. 

She follows you to the gate to the pool, repeating it in a whimpering sort of way, and the words chase you all the way home. 

You wish it wasn’t true. 

You don’t say a single word to your parents until they have to take you to the awards assembly. 

When you’re there, you get a band pin and the award for “Most Dedicated Member of Senior Band.” Your eyes go wide and your cheeks flush, and Mrs. Howell sticks her tongue out at you when you make your way onto the stage. 

Your eyes flick out and find Tobin and she’s smiling and clapping with everyone else. 

  
  


Tobin likes to torture you. In a friendly, teasing kind of way. She’s admitted as much to you. In a weird way it makes you feel loved. 

You see her at graduation and she’s got tears in her eyes because Perry is graduating. You’re full of all kinds of emotions, so many people you care about are graduating, and on top of that school will be done soon and then you’re leaving too, so you go to Tobin and you hug her. 

She hugs you back, and then every time you run into her at graduation you end up giving her a hug. It feels a little like you’re trying to get in as many hugs from her as you can while you still have the chance. If she minds, she doesn’t complain. 

You’re not sure if you’re more sad about all of the graduates leaving or the knowledge that you’re going to leave Tobin soon. 

Your birthday party feels bittersweet. Part of you wants it to last and last and part of you just wants everyone to go away except for Yuki and Pinoe who you feel like you’ll never get enough time with. 

Pinoe and Rachel make you a cake and on your first attempt you can’t blow out any of the candles. On your second you get all twelve out in one breath. 

Pinoe puts her arm around you and says, “Happy Birthday!” before kissing you on the cheek. Her birthday present to you is your favorite: a china box with blue and white pictures on it that remind her of Japan. 

Right before she leaves you give her a hug and then press a kiss to her cheek. It’s not really something you do, and you feel self-conscious in the moment, but she smiles at you before she leaves and you think maybe that’s not so bad. 

  
  


You spend your last day of school taking pictures and signing yearbooks. You want to document everything, to remember absolutely everything about this place. Sometimes you’re in the pictures, sometimes you’re taking them, but with every click of the camera you feel one step closer to leaving and you absolutely hate it. 

Yuki and her brother come swimming one last time. It feels like the end of an era, but you try not to dwell on it, even though you feel like you’re on the verge of tears the whole time. You swim and you laugh and you reminisce about all the stupid times you’ve had this year, the highs and the lows, and all the nighttime swims. It feels nice and you soak up the time, feeling like every minute is precious. 

You go to church together one last time, and afterwards you go out for ice cream, getting your favorite: mint chocolate chip. You wonder if the ice cream in Colombia will taste this good. You can’t imagine that it will. 

  
  


The day before your flights, Tobin comes over to your house. You sit and talk for a while, mostly reassuring each other that you’re okay, you’ll be okay. She can’t stay long though, and every second that ticks by feels like a second closer to your heart breaking. How can you be leaving these people, these friends that you care about so very much? How is that fair? 

When it’s time for her to go you hug her close, and she doesn’t let go. She holds you to her and you breathe her in, not thinking that it’s for the last time, but still you can’t stop the tears that fall onto her shoulder. 

“You’re gonna have fun next year,” she promises into your hair, but you’re having trouble believing that that’s true. She sounds a little hoarse as she continues. “You’re going to do so many things, make so many new friends, experience a new culture, eat new foods, learn Spanish -”

“Oh, yeah...fun,” you mutter sarcastically, your voice cracking. 

She gives you an extra squeeze and then lets you go. You walk her out and say, “Tobin...Thank you sooooo much.” You owe her more than you can explain. The words, “I love you” are on the tip of your tongue, but you bite them back. 

“You’re welcome,” Tobin replies with a smile. “Thank YOU.” 

With that she leaves and you turn around. She’s gone and you’re leaving the country and you’re probably never going to see her again. 

You’re sobbing by the time you reach the secret spot in your room behind your bookshelves and you stay there and you cry for a long time. 

  
  


You walk around your empty room, the bed and shelves bare. This will become someone else’s room now. All of your stuff is in boxes to be shipped across the ocean and put into a new room where it won’t fit quite as well. Some of it will go to your grandma’s house and stay boxed up. 

You don’t remember what exactly you sent there, don’t really want to think about it. 

This has been YOUR room, your home, your safe place even through nights where it felt like everything sucked, and now -

You swallow hard, blinking the tears back from your eyes. 

“Goodbye,” you whisper to the empty space. 

She handed you a letter before she left. Told you to wait to open it on the airplane. You realize too late that this is not something you should read in public. You read her words and you start crying all over again. 

_ Dear Christen,  _

_ Well, the year is gone...and a wonderful year it has been. Throughout the year everything has happened from A to Z.  _

_ I know that this year was hard for you, but such is life...and I promise that things will be better next year.  _

_ All the times that I was (or seemed) mad at you, it was only because I cated.  _

_ Please remember that suicide is not the answer, only living in God is. He has the road map of your life, and will guide you over all the bumps, cracks, and curves if you trust and love him.  _

_ We will always share the same sky.  _

_ I will think of you always… _

_ Thank you for  _ _ everything _ _ this year! _

_ Love,  _

_ Tobin _

You stare at the word love, at the implication of it, for a long time. She cares about you. She loves you. And you love her so very much. She’s one of the best friends you’ve ever had and the hardest goodbye. You read the phrase, “I will think of you always…” over and over and over. 

You’re never going to forget Tobin Heath as long as you live. 


	3. 7th Grade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New school, new city, new country, new continent, but same Christen? 7th grade feels like a whole new world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you continue to enjoy Christen's development and the new people in her life.

You go to a family wedding and your cousin tells you and some of your other cousins that he’s gay. You don’t really know what that means, but some of your older cousins explain it to you. He’s a boy who likes boys. Romantically. 

It’s a new idea, but it sounds reasonable. Except that his dad is forbidding him to tell the family, which you can only think is so stupid. Your cousin is who he is. It’s not a choice, it’s just him. 

He disobeys his dad and tells everyone anyway. You go with him to tell his parents and you see the disappointment on their faces, the barely repressed rage. You recognize that you’re there partially to protect him, even though he’s older than you. 

You wonder for a split second what your parents would think if they were in your aunt and uncle’s place. 

But you’re not gay, so it doesn’t really matter.

You still love your cousin though. Maybe even more than you did before. 

And his parents calm down and accept that he’s told everyone. It’s fine. It’s not really that big of a deal. 

Not at all. 

  
  


Tobin gets grounded. She isn’t supposed to have any contact with any of her friends. You don’t find out what she did, but you do find out about the grounding because she risks getting caught to e-mail you. The thought sends a thrill through you. She cares so much that she’ll risk getting in even more trouble just to communicate with you. You send her an e-mail back right away. 

  
  


Colombia is different. Your school is big. Way bigger than your old school. It’s in the mountains, too, instead of on flat ground, and the buildings are multi-story, with wide hallways between the classrooms that only open to the air at the ends of the buildings, which is enough to let the wind whip through, but not enough to make you feel like you’re outside and free. 

The president’s kids go to your school which means that from the time they arrive to the time they leave, heavily armed guards march around school. 

You have to wear a uniform here, too, which is the first time you’ve ever had to do that. At first you think it’ll be kind of cool but you quickly realize that it is anything but. The skirt makes you feel awkward, while the pants are a little itchy, the dress shirts and ties for Fridays are uncomfortable, and the thin sweaters do nothing to keep the chill in the air out. 

Worst of all, unlike your old school where everyone was from everywhere, here almost everyone is from Colombia, which means that the language when you walk down the hall is Spanish, in other words, you feel even more like a fish out of water than usual. 

To make matters worse, with your tan complexion thanks to your mixed background, you kind of look Colombian, you guess, so people keep talking to YOU in Spanish and being surprised that you don’t understand. 

  
  


No, actually the worst thing is that your dad is your principal. 

Who allowed that? Shouldn’t there be a law against your really super embarrassing father dragging you halfway across the world and becoming your middle school principal? If there’s not, there really should be. 

  
  


Colombia also marks your proper introduction to American TV other than American football, CNN, and Saturday morning cartoons when you’re visiting your grandma. You already think that school sucks and you KNOW your parents suck, but suddenly you have a whole new worlds to disappear into. The best part is that the shows are either in English with Spanish subtitles, or you can turn off SAP to have them not dubbed into Spanish. 

You get lost in the adventures of witches and American high schoolers and aliens and FRIENDS and vampire slayers. When you’re lost in those worlds it’s harder to think about the loneliness in this one, the ache in your chest for the people you miss, whose words you hope to read every time you check your email, whose phone numbers you are allowed to dial infrequently because of the cost (but you know the numbers by heart anyway). 

Your body is in Colombia, but your mind spends half its days in fictional places. 

  
  


Someone says, “Hi, Christen,” at school one day in a voice that sounds SO MUCH like Tobin’s that you have to look up, have to make sure. 

It’s not Tobin, though. Of course it’s not. 

It was stupid to hope, even for that split second. 

You send her an e-mail as soon as you get home and know that with the time difference, the earliest you’ll get a response is tomorrow. 

(It comes a few days later and you hang on every word as if your life depends on it.) 

  
  


Soccer is different in Colombia. They take it more seriously, it feels like, and so you do too. 

You run laps harder and you practice your drills more diligently and you stay after practice shooting balls in to the back of the net because you feel like you have to catch up, like if you ever want to properly feel like part of the team, if you ever want to be a starter for the team, you need to step up your game. 

Soccer is a nice distraction, too. You don’t feel as lonely when you’re focusing on where the ball is, on running a little faster, the wind blowing in your face, giving you a hint of freedom. You don’t feel as lonely when you’re surrounded by your teammates working towards a common goal. 

And soccer is how you meet Vero. 

  
  


You’ve made some other friends already. They’re not like the friends you’ve left behind, but they’re someone to hang out with on weekends and eat lunch with at school so that you feel like a little less of an outsider. They’ll at least speak English to you in the halls while you scramble to learn Spanish as fast as you can, reading all of the subtitles at home, doing your SSL homework first. Your French feels like an asset, like it’s giving you a boost. You can feel words starting to click, phrases and grammar starting to come together. 

Vero, though, is different. 

Vero offers easy smiles and big laughs. She’s a year above you and she’s been at the school her whole life, so she shows you the ropes, points out the good and the bad, where to go, what to avoid. She’s the one who introduces you to the deliciousness that is arepas con queso. 

It becomes your go-to afterschool snack. 

  
  


Vero feels like she’s opening up your world after you’d decided to close it off. 

She introduces you to her favorite scary movies, and you can’t get enough. You love the thrill of the jump scares, puzzling out who the real killer is, guessing the twists before they happen. You spend nights at her house marathoning them. 

(Plus Neve Campbell seems pretty cool and pretty pretty and maybe you wouldn’t mind watching more movies with her in them even if they’re not horror movies.) 

Vero introduces you to new music, too, from the Backstreet Boys posters you help her put up in her room to local merengue and salsa artists, that she moves her hips to in a way that you’re sure you’ll never be able to mimic but you feel like you could watch forever. 

  
  


You find out at the first school dance that everybody in Colombia can dance. It’s like it’s ingrained in their DNA. 

You sit back and watch from the corner, feeling shy and unskilled. This isn’t the awkward rocking back and forth of your old middle school dances. This dancing is all quick steps and swaying hips and spinning your partner.

You don’t know how and everyone else seems like they do and it only serves to help you feel more and more out of place, to wish you were back at your old school with your old friends where you knew the way that things were supposed to work. 

But then Vero drags you onto the dance floor and puts her hands on your hips, warm through your dress, helping you move to the rhythm, half giggling as she guides you. 

You’re still awkward and you don’t think you’re exactly on rhythm, but it IS kind of fun. 

No boys ask you to dance, even Andres who you think you kind of have a crush on and you’re pretty sure he has a crush back on you. 

It’s okay though, because at the end of the night, after Vero waves goodbye to you as you’re leaving, you find yourself smiling on the way home. 

You get your first Bar Mitzvah invitation in October. It’s not to the actual ceremony itself, but to the party afterwards which is at a discoteca and goes until 1 a.m. You’re sure that your parents aren’t going to let you go. You’re 12. There’s no way they’re going to let you stay out that late at a party. 

But to your surprise they say okay. 

There are so many people there. Your whole class plus half of the eighth graders, it feels like, plus family and cousins of the guy whose Bar Mitzvah it is. You definitely don’t know everybody, but Vero’s there, and Sofia, Jenni, and Tiane are there, too, so you have your little group. It’s a bit like a school dance except there’s a fog machine and the grown ups are drinking (and some of the kids are sneaking alcohol, too, but you don’t, not this time, you’re too uncertain). The bass is pounding through speakers almost as tall as you are and again, everyone is dancing. 

Everyone is celebrating.

And you still don’t really feel comfortable dancing, but Tiane takes one hand and Jenni takes the other and together they drag you out there and Sofia shows you how to move your hips and Vero smiles at you and nods and calls, “Good job, Christen!” over the sound of the music, and you think maybe it’s actually kind of fun. 

This time Andres does ask you to dance, and you almost say no, almost turn away shyly, but Vero’s hand is steady on your back as she gives you a little shove towards him. 

“Come on! Dance!” she encourages in your ear, so you do. 

Andres is a little hot and sweaty, but it’s not from the hot African air. It’s from dancing so hard, dancing so well, and he leads you around the floor with ease. 

You’re a bit resistant at first, but then you relax into it, relax into him. You’re acutely aware of the way that your bodies are pressed together, the way that you’ve never really danced with a guy like this before.

He takes your hand and spins you, and you only stumble over your own feet a little. You hear someone whistle and when you look over Andres’s shoulder as he spins you around the dance floor, your body pressed into his, you catch Vero’s eyes, see her grinning and clapping. She gives you a double thumbs up and you find yourself blushing into Andres’s shoulder. 

It feels like a lot. 

(Especially when you dance with him two more times and then Alejandro asks you to dance once, too.) 

  
  


You call Tobin. 

You’ve called her before, obviously, but this is long distance. This is across an ocean and it’s been a while, so you find your hands shaking just like they were the very first time. 

Her voice is full of surprise when she realizes it’s you, and even though the line is crackling a bit, you think she sounds happy to hear from you. 

“How’s life in Colombia?” 

You tell her. You tell her all about how everyone speaks Spanish and you feel super out of place and your dad being your principal is absolutely horrible. You tell her about how wearing a uniform is so much worse than you thought it was and how the culture here is so different and soccer is harder and band doesn’t feel the same at all and nobody really seems to take it seriously here. 

“Have you made any friends?” 

You feel your heart beat a little faster in your chest. You tell her about Tiane and Sofia and Jenni. You tell her about the Bar Mitzvah and Andres asking you to dance, feeling your cheeks heat up when she says, “Oooooh,” in reply. “Andres, huh?” You can hear the teasing in her voice. You can just visualize her smirk, that glint in her eyes. 

You hesitate for a moment, though you’re not really sure why, and then you bring up Vero. How she’s the one that got you dancing in the first place. How she’s super good at soccer and is helping you after practice get even better, feeding you balls. How she’s really your best friend here. 

There’s a slight pause and you wonder if the call got cut off. There’s been so much static on the line. Maybe she can’t even hear you. 

But then she’s saying, “See? I told you you were going to have fun in Colombia. I told you you were going to make friends! Didn’t I tell you?” 

“You did. But it still sucks. I still miss it there...I miss you.” The admission feels like too much. She’s going to think you’re weird, so you quickly add, “And Pinoe and Yuki and everyone.”

“I know. We miss you too. But we still look at the same stars and the same sky, right?”

“Right,” you agree, swallowing down the sudden lump in your throat. 

Your mom walks by and taps her wrist. The phone call is getting long and it’s not cheap. 

“I should go. Long distance and all.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay. Bye Christen.

“Bye Tobin.”

Your heart races for the next hour at least. 

  
  


A senior from the boys’ team drops dead on the soccer fields. The entire team is stunned, and practice gets cancelled for a few days. It feels surreal, but it’s not your first experience with a schoolmate’s death. Then again, that was from a car crash and this was an aneurysm. It’s one thing when it comes from external forces, and something else entirely to know that it can come from inside your own body, even if you’re young and healthy. 

Vero comes over in tears and you let her cry on your shoulder, but you can’t seem to find any tears of your own. Instead you find yourself focused on what it feels like to comfort her, to have her freely resting her head on your shoulder, to wrap your arm around her and pull her closer. 

It’s weird the next time you all step onto the soccer field. It’s somber, quiet. You’re all looking around as if you can see his ghost lingering. This is where he died. This is where he took his last breath. One second he was at soccer practice just like you and the next he was gone. 

Nobody really seems to give it their all. 

You don’t really have it in you to stay after practice, either. Instead you and Vero get arepas con queso in relative silence. 

You spend Halloween at Vero’s house. You’re too old to go trick-or-treating, you’ve decided, but you’re the perfect age for a scary movie marathon and a sleepover. 

You cuddle up in sleeping bags, surrounded by pillows, in her living room and put on move after movie, trying to act like you don’t jump every time the killer attacks, putting on a brave face, laughing sheepishly together when you get caught. 

It feels normal. 

It feels right. 

And when her mom finally tells you this is the last movie and you need to get some sleep, you end up laying on the floor, side by side, staring at her ceiling, talking about random things. 

You think, just for the briefest of moments, that this is the type of friendship you’d always hoped you could have with Tobin. 

And then Vero says, “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

You swallow hard, and you’re not really sure why. Your body suddenly feels super sensitive, like you can feel every point where your arm is brushing hers, feel the warmth off of her body. “Yeah. My ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“You?” you ask it more because you feel like you should than because you actually want the answer. 

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” 

Half of you wants to ask who and half of you doesn’t, so the silence lingers between you before she says. “Do you think you’d ever kiss a girl?”

Your mouth goes dry and you shake your head quickly. “No way. Gross.” It feels like the right answer. (You don’t think about how maybe it doesn’t feel like the true answer.)

There’s a moment where Vero doesn’t respond, but then she giggles, and says, “Right?” and that’s that. 

  
  


It’s sometime around Thanksgiving when you realize that you might actually be learning Spanish, not just muddling through. You’re watching a show with Spanish subtitles on the bottom, your mind automatically following along on them, and you frown because what was said in English is definitely not what was written across the screen in Spanish. 

It takes you a few times of that happening for it to register in your brain that it means you know what it’s actually SUPPOSED to be. 

Your dad talks to you about going total immersion and taking the Español class with the native speakers second semester. You’d be the only  _ gringa _ , which terrifies you a little, but you’ve also seen the girl in your Spanish as a Second Language class who has been at level 1 for seven years and you don’t want that to be you, so you reluctantly agree. 

(You don’t think about how Tobin had suggested that learning Spanish might be fun. You don’t think about how you might actually be able to speak Vero’s native language as well as she speaks yours at some point either.)

  
  


Christmas in the States feels like a relief and torture all at once. It’s nice to have Tyler around and be surrounded by English again, but the questions that plagued you when you’d visited from Africa seem to have morphed into equally as ridiculous ones. You hate having to explain that no you do not in fact ride a canoe down the Amazon to get to school. 

Channing has started to mind, too, so at least you can roll your eyes together. 

It’s a little weird that this is the first place you’ve ever lived that Tyler never has. She’s too busy being off finishing college and meeting a boyfriend who actually gets invited to Christmas at your grandma’s. It’s a little -

Well, you mind, if you’re being honest. You get so little time with your big sister and now there’s this...guy around. 

He’s kind of funny and he plays the guitar, but he treats you like a kid in the most annoying ways and, honestly, you think your sister can do better. 

You don’t tell her, though. You don’t want to ruin the time you do have by fighting with her, so you grin and bear his comments about her “kid sisters” and force a smile when he ruffles your hair and condescendingly asks if you’ve ever had a boyfriend. 

You think to yourself that you hope you at least never have a boyfriend like him.

  
  


The coup d’etat happens the day before Christmas. You find out from friends who were evacuated via helicopter to Liberia. You think that most of your friends were probably away for the holidays. Most of them were probably gone, were probably safe. 

You pray that that’s the case, anyway. 

It’s so hard to imagine the country that you’d called home descending into chaos. Thoughts of the school empty, worries of what might become of it, what might become of the people you care about…

It’s enough to drive all of you a bit insane. 

You send an e-mail to Tobin the day after Christmas. 

It’s the new year before you hear back. 

She’s safe, and you feel like you can breathe again properly for the first time in over a week. 

  
  


You play basketball for the winter, although the weather seems largely the same to you apart from a few hail storms that litter the ground with ice as large as baseballs. It’s inside, and you’re not horrible. Your speed from soccer is useful and it’s a good way to stay fit, but you long to have a soccer ball back at your feet. You’d kick one against the wall of your room if you didn’t know that your parents would yell at you and Channing would complain (and possibly the downstairs neighbors would, too). 

  
  


When Willow and Tara kiss on screen for the first time, it feels like someone has pushed all of the air out of your lungs. You’d seen it coming, seen the buildup, but you’d dismissed it even as part of you had longed for it to happen. 

Willow is supposed to be with Oz. They were in love. And now -

Now Willow is kissing Tara and you can’t tear your eyes away. You want to watch it over and over. You’ve already been hooked on TV shows, but suddenly you can’t wait until Willow and Tara are back on screen together, you look for every single touch they share, every moment. 

It’s interesting to you, you think. 

Not because the idea of kissing a girl is appealing, of course. 

It’s just...not a story you’ve seen over and over before. 

You’re drawn to it, but just because it’s a novel idea, not because of what the idea actually is. Besides, Buffy is like your favorite show anyway. 

It doesn’t mean anything. 

(It doesn’t mean anything that maybe when you close your eyes at night you imagine Faith and how badass she was and you find yourself torn between wondering what it would be like to be her and wondering what it might be like to kiss her.)

  
  


You don’t tell anyone. 

You don’t talk about it with anyone. 

Except you kind of want to talk about it with everyone. You bring up Buffy more than you really should, but nobody else seems to have latched onto the storyline the way that you have. 

Nobody else seems to care that Willow is dating a girl now the way that you do. 

It’s -

You don’t push it.

You want to, but you don’t. You don’t dare. 

(Because what if it means…)

Some days it feels like you keep more things in than you let out. There are so many thoughts half-finished in your head, so much you push down, you push away. 

It feels heavy. 

Some days, even when you and Vero are hanging out, it feels like all of your friends are a million miles away. 

And then the thought slips in: are they really your friends? Will you ever see them again? How long before you lose touch forever?

You think of friends you’ve already lost touch with. You think of people whose names barely ever cross your mind anymore. 

It’s been a few months since you’ve heard from Tobin. It’s been a few months since you’ve sent an e-mail. 

You don’t know her new number in the States. You can’t call. 

Yuki is in Japan and Pinoe is heading to Germany and everyone feels scattered. 

And Vero waves her hand in front of your face and jokes, “Are you there, Chris?” and you nod but you don’t know if yes is really the right answer at all. 

  
  


Sometimes you think you’d like to kiss a girl. 

Not like Willow.

You don’t want to date one. You’re not gay. 

Besides, you finally told Andres about your crush last week (and, okay, it was awkward, and he didn’t try to kiss you or ask you out or any of the other things you’d imagined might happen, but you’re still talking and he hasn’t made fun of you to the entire school, so there are worse possible outcomes). 

But kissing a girl seems like it’d be -

Their lips must be soft, right? And girls are like...they just...they’re like more mature. They always know what they’re doing more. So if kissing a boy is kind of lackluster then kissing a girl must be better, right? 

It doesn’t mean anything. 

Not when you catch yourself staring at Vero’s lips. 

Not when you catch yourself wondering if you kissed her what it would feel like. 

Not when you catch yourself wondering if it would change things between you. 

(When you do catch yourself you hate yourself. You can’t. You wouldn’t ever. It’s gross. You couldn’t kiss her. She’s -

No. Just no.)

  
  


“It just seems weird.” 

Your blood runs cold at Sofia’s words. You kick the ball away quickly. 

It’s not weird. It’s not. It’s -

“Like she was Oz’s soulmate and then suddenly she’s gay? It’s weird,” Sofia reiterates. 

“I don’t know,” Tiane replies, kicking the ball on to Jenni. “People change.”

“Okay, but, like, it’s not like she didn’t like Oz. It was the whole storyline. Plus remember the whole Xander crush? Like she was into guys,” Sofia persists, and you’re really regretting getting your friends into Buffy in the first place. You’re really regretting that you got them to watch THAT scene. 

“Maybe she’s bi,” Jenni suggests. 

Bye? Bye what? What? 

“What?” The word leaves your mouth full of confusion before you can think better of it. You hate looking stupid, but you have no idea what she’s talking about. Like...bye to boys? 

“Bisexual.”

You still don’t know what she means, but you don’t dare ask again. You feel stupid enough as it is. 

“That’s when someone likes boys and girls, right?” Tiane asks. 

“Yeah. My cousin’s bi. He used to date this girl and now he’s dating a guy, but he says he’d date a girl in the future, it just depends on the person.”

“Wait, that’s really a thing? Doesn’t that just mean he can’t choose?” Sofia asks, but you barely hear it. 

Your heart is pounding hard in your ears. 

If people don’t have to be either gay or straight, if they can choose -

If liking guys doesn’t automatically mean that you don’t like girls.

Jenni sends the ball your way and you almost miss it and then strike too hard, sending it flying. 

“Christen!” Vero groans as she chases after it. 

“Sorry!” you call after her, but your mind is a million miles away and you can’t breathe quite right. You’ve been at altitude for months now. You shouldn’t be having this much trouble breathing. 

Nobody mentions bisexuality again and you break off into a 2 v 3 scrimmage, but you just can’t seem to get into it. 

You feel off. Your whole being feels off. There’s this feeling of dread settling low in your stomach that you can’t quite seem to shake and you end up bowing out early saying that you’re behind on homework. 

Only Vero gives you a weird look. 

The end of the school year looms heavy. It’s so different from the year before. You’re coming back here again next year (even though you’re not sure you really want to - you haven’t made the same type of friend except for Vero, you haven’t felt settled or like you fit in even for one second, your brain feels like a swirling mess, and some days it feels like the only thing that’s keeping you afloat is soccer). 

For the first summer ever in your life you’re not going to Europe for part of it. You try not to think about all of the people you won’t get to see. You try not to feel anxious about seeing Tyler again, about seeing her boyfriend again. (You had a great Easter with her, but he hadn’t been around and next time you see her he will be. Plus what if she asks about a boyfriend AGAIN?) 

You don’t want to leave but you don’t want to stay, and Vero is giving you the saddest of looks as she hugs you goodbye at your last sleepover of the school year. It’s your equivalent of a birthday party, too. 

You, Vero, Tiane, Sofia, and Jenni. It’s so small and yet there’s no one else here that you want there. 

You haven’t talked about Jenni’s cousin again. Or Willow and Tara for that matter. You haven’t talked about anything relating to sexuality at all. 

And yet it feels like it’s all that’s on your mind. Everytime you see Jenni you want to ask more, but you don’t want her to ask why you care. 

(You don’t want to ask yourself why you care either.)

You say goodbye with questions locked away in your mind and you squeeze Vero a little tighter than everyone else. 

You don’t know why. 

(You don’t want to think about it.)

You survived seventh grade, but it kind of feels like barely. 


	4. 8th Grade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christen isn't sure what she's feeling, she isn't sure what she should be doing. She THINKS she knows, but the things she thinks she should want and like don't always feel how she thinks they should and that just leaves her feeling lonely and confused. She really just wants to make it out of middle school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of forgot about this story. Whoops! But here's a new chapter. This one is a lot more fiction than fact. Also WARNING: there is Vero/Chris explorations in this chapter. The fic is Preath endgame if you will tolerate this, though. But please don't @ me about how dare I include someone else possibly having interest in CP or whatever bs, okay? She's figuring things out. Next up is probably all of high school in one chapter.

Tobin gets a boyfriend.

She doesn’t offer much more beyond that, but you don’t exactly ask, either. It’s easy not to when your only contact is infrequent e-mails. The news hits you hard, and you don’t really want to explore why that might be. 

Instead you curl up on your grandma’s couch and watch episodes of Buffy that you’ve taped for the tenth time. 

  
  


Your parents send you to camp. It’s outdoorsy and there’s soccer so you don’t really mind. It gives you something to do all day besides get lost in your thoughts. 

It means getting up earlier in the morning than you’d like, but you’re old enough to be in the “senior” housing which is it’s own cabin with guys on one side and girls on the other, and everyone is pretty cool. You instantly bond with Casey and Sarah. It’s always the three of you, huddled together between plays on the field, racing each other for the best times, gossiping around the table at meals. 

And you almost forget.

You almost don’t think about it.

You almost don’t notice the way that Sarah’s lips are so luscious. 

You almost don’t notice the way that you can’t stop staring at Casey’s curls. 

You almost don’t replay Tara and Willow kissing in your head over and over. 

  
  


Casey has a crush on Matt and Sarah has a crush on Jaime and, well, Adam is cute. Adam is cute and he’s easy to talk to and when he holds your hand on a hike you don’t pull it away, even though it’s a little uncomfortable and a lot sweaty. 

And Casey and Sarah notice because of course they do, and you feel your face flush when they tease you about it later, shut up in your side of the cabin, the other girls still brushing their teeth. You feel your cheeks heat up and your gut coil into uncomfortable knots and when they ask if you like him you say you do. 

You do and it’s the truth, but it doesn’t feel like the whole truth. 

When he asks if you’d like to be his girlfriend the next day you say, “Yes” and that doesn’t feel like the whole truth either. 

  
  
  
  


Adam’s penis is the first one you ever touch and it leaves you feeling…

You’re not really sure. 

Bad doesn’t feel like the right word, but good certainly isn’t the right one either. 

It was a quick handjob behind the cabin and you could hear others nearby and you’re not really sure what you’re doing or if the look on his face is actually pleasure. 

When he kisses you afterwards, you almost don’t want to, but then he’s slipping his fingers down the front of your pants and his lips are hot and wet on your throat and it doesn’t feel BAD when his fingers prod inexpertly at you. You feel self-conscious though, and after a little while he pulls away looking pleased with himself and you’re not really sure why. 

When Casey and Sarah question you about it later, you feel your cheeks and your chest burn with a blush that you have no chance of hiding, but it’s embarrassment that is making you flush. Casey is impressed and Sarah is surprised and you’re left feeling…

Like maybe you shouldn’t have. 

  
  


It’s the last night of camp, the big camp out, the big bonfire where everyone stays up a little later and everyone roasts marshmallows and sings songs and there’s a general sense of camaraderie. You haven’t given Adam another handjob, but then again he hasn’t really asked, so maybe you didn’t do a very good job in the first place. He’s still nice to you and holds your hand when you’re hiking and you haven’t officially broken up or anything, but part of you can’t help thinking that you’re actually going to be relieved when you leave camp and won’t ever get to see him again. 

You find yourself much more interested in spending the remaining limited time you have with Casey and Sarah, who you’ve already exchanged emails and phone numbers with and promised to keep in touch with forever. You link up arms, you in the middle, as you cuddle up on the benches by the fire. You whisper inside jokes that have you cracking up and some of the counsellors giving you funny looks. You don’t even notice in the end when Adam leaves the fire circle for bed. 

Casey heads to your shared tent first out of the three of you and most of the younger campers have already gone to bed leaving just a handful of your bunkmates and a lone counsellor still around the circle. It affords you plenty of privacy to chat with Sarah, though, so when she whispers, “Can I tell you a secret?” in a timid voice, you scootch a little closer and nod eagerly. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Sarah bites her lip nervously, taps her always perfectly manicured fingers on her knees, then says, “Don’t tell Casey, okay? I just...I’m not sure how she’d...I know she’s kind of pretty religious and stuff, but...Okay, you know Mana?” 

You nod because of course you know Mana. She’s everyone’s favorite counselor. Young, pretty, funny. She is the counsellor you KNOW you can go to if you have a problem. 

Sarah takes a deep breath in and holds it for a second before letting it out and it’s like her nervousness is contagious because you find yourself bouncing your leg waiting impatiently for her to just be out with it. 

“I kinda have a crush on her.”

Your mouth goes dry and your hands clench into fists in your lap and for a moment you think that you must have misheard her. “Oh,” you manage to reply. 

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? I mean, I don’t even know if...I mean like obviously Jaime is hot, I just...When Mana smiles and —”

“But she’s a girl.” You want to kick yourself. Obviously she’s a girl. That’s why it’s a secret. That’s why you’re not supposed to tell anyone. And she trusted you and now she’s looking at you like she’s made the biggest mistake in the world. “Um, cool,” you mumble, and you feel your cheeks flush. 

You scoot away slightly, almost as if feelings for girls might be catching, even though you know they’re not, you know you’re being stupid and a bit of a dick and the hurt look that Sarah gives you tells you that she definitely noticed. 

You try to scoot back, but she’s already put a little space between the two of you and your head feels like it’s reeling and you’re not really sure what you can say to fix this.

This is your last night at camp together and everything is supposed to be perfect and instead it feels like you’ve just blown it all up. 

“So are you bi?” you ask, remembering the word that Jenni had used on the soccer field months ago. 

“What? No! I’m...it’s just a crush. I shouldn’t have —”

“It’s cool if you are. I mean, it’s fine. I think Willow is. In Buffy.” You feel like you’re just fumbling this more. “And she’s like my second favorite character,” you add as if that will somehow help you, as if it will dig you out of the trench you’re digging for yourself. 

Sarah gives you a funny look for a second, and then says, “Wait, you watch Buffy too? How have we been friends all of camp and I didn’t know that about you?” 

“Um, yeah, it’s just like the best show ever!” you reply, and just like that it’s like a lifeline has been thrown. She leans in closer and you scoot back towards her and you talk about Willow and Tara like it’s the one concrete thing you can agree on right now. 

  
  


When you hug Sarah goodbye the next day your eyes are full of tears and so are hers. She leaves you with a briskly whispered, “It’s okay to like girls, I think.” 

You’re not sure if she’s trying to tell you something about herself or yourself and you’re not sure you want to know. 

  
  


Going back to Colombia fills you with equal parts dread and excitement. 

There’s something about going back to your normal life that makes it feel like the real world has just been suspended in this safe little bubble all summer and it will all flood back in the second you go back to school. 

You feel empty, hollow, as you get off the plane, a sense of foreboding building inside of you that you can’t quite shake. 

You tell yourself it’s nothing. You tell yourself it’ll be great to see Vero. You tell yourself you’ve missed the girls on the soccer team. You tell yourself maybe Andres will ask you out this year. 

(You tell yourself you want him to.)

  
  


Vero is in high school now. That means that you don’t get to make faces at her during assemblies anymore. You can’t meet her at her locker during the day anymore. You can’t even have lunch together anymore. 

If you felt lonely last year, it doesn’t compare at all to this year. 

Worst of all, you’re not on the same soccer team anymore. 

It’s like she’s moved on to this new stage of life and you’re stuck in the same one. 

Jenni and Tiane and Sofia welcome you back with open arms but it feels a little hollow at the same time.

You just haven’t had the same connection with them as you do with Vero. 

  
  


Tobin sends you an e-mail and it feels like the best thing that’s happened to you in weeks right up until she mentions her boyfriend. Right up until it’s followed up with: _how about you? Any special guys in your life?_

And when the e-mail closes with “Love and miss you” it feels completely insincere. 

  
  
  
  


It’s not that you haven’t seen Vero, that you haven’t hung out at all, but it feels like the first REAL time you get REAL time together is just before Halloween. She invites you over for a scary movie marathon and a sleepover and for a few hours it feels like it was. 

And then Vero brings up soccer and asks after the girls on the team and then starts talking about the girls on the high school team and something uncomfortable twists inside of you. She’s talking on and on and you start to hear one name pop up more than the rest. It’s Catalina this and Catalina that and Catalina has such a nice shot, and it’s like somebody is heating your blood on the stove.

You feel hotter and hotter and your fists are closed tightly at your sides and your teeth are clenched so hard that your jaw hurts. 

And then suddenly you explode. “I get it! Catalina’s way more awesome than any of us were!” 

Vero steps back, her brows furrow in confusion, but you’re not done yet. You should be. You should stop yourself, but you can’t. The words fall out of your mouth like you have no control over them. 

“What are you in love with her or something?” you accuse. 

You can feel the regret burning red and hot inside you as soon as the words are out, and your cheeks flush darkly. 

You see the flare of anger flash in Vero’s eyes and you know you deserve it, but it still brings instant tears to your eyes when she yells, “What the hell is your problem, Chris? I’ve been trying to be your friend, but you haven’t been making it easy, pulling away and giving me one word answers, and now, what? You’re jealous I’ve actually made other friends?”

And the word jealous hits hard, hits home. It’s right and you know it is, but you deny it anyway. You deny it and use the cover of anger, the cover of annoyance, like that’s going to make anything better. 

But of course it doesn’t. 

It just makes everything so much worse. 

You don’t end up staying the night. You end up waiting in the hall outside Vero’s apartment for your mom to come get you and you refuse to answer her worried questions as you blink back tears all the way home. 

  
  


It takes you a week —

One solid week of crying yourself to sleep at night, of picking up the phone to call her only to hang up before you do, of avoiding anyone and everyone in any form of a social setting, of feeling a new level of desperate loneliness, before you swallow your pride and apologize. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Vero murmurs, digging her toe into the dirt. 

“I didn’t mean it. I know you’re not — You know.” 

And Vero squints at her, looks at her hard. “What if I was?” 

You swallow hard, unsure of how to react. She’s joking. She has to be joking, right? So you force out a laugh. “But you’re not.”

“But what if I was? Would it matter? Would you not be my friend?”

“No of course not!” You think of Sarah, of the disappointment on her face when she’d told you and you hadn’t reacted the right way. “My best friend from camp this summer is bi,” you volunteer. 

Vero frowns, looks at you, studies you, and you squirm, shifting your weight between your feet. 

“Well, good for you. I’m glad.” 

You don’t know what to say now. Her response feels half sarcastic and this apology isn’t really going the way you thought it might. It’s like even in trying to make things right you keep saying things all wrong. You want to ask, “Are you?” but you feel like you don’t have the right to. 

So instead you do what you’re becoming really good at: you avoid it, you run from it. “Anyway, I should get to practice.” 

And Vero nods, lets you leave. 

Somehow that’s so much worse than if she’d argued with you more. 

You get back to normal kind of. Or almost normal. 

You don’t talk about it. You don’t mention the fight or Vero’s question or sexuality in any way shape or form. 

But the question eats away at you. 

Could Vero be…? Could she have meant….? And if she is…?

You think about her lips, how they look so soft, how you’ve thought about what it might be like to kiss them. You think about how kissing Adam had felt...lackluster. You think about touching him, about him touching you, and then you imagine Vero touching you and suddenly your body is on fire. 

You squeeze your legs together, a tickle spreading low, and you want — you think about —

But you don’t. You lay on your back in your room and you look at the posters you’ve put up of actors with their shirts off, flexing with rippling abs. They’re hot. Not Vero. Not girls. Guys. 

(But it’s thoughts of Vero that leave you breathless before you fall asleep that night.)

  
  


You ask Tobin if she’s ever known anyone who was gay when you next e-mail her. It feels like too much and you delete it and type it again five times before you ultimately leave it in. 

When her reply comes in you don’t read it right away. You’re not sure you want to. What if she’s against gay people? What if she thinks it’s gross or a sin or —

You leave it in your inbox for three days before you work up the nerve. 

Her answer is easy, though. Yes. She’s got some friends at school that are gay. They’re cool. There’s nothing wrong with it. 

But the last line stops you cold. 

You don’t reply. You ignore it for two whole weeks and when you finally write back you leave the question unanswered. 

It won’t stop bouncing around your brain, though. 

_Do you think you might be gay, Chris?_

  
  
  
  


It feels like things are better between you and Vero right before Christmas, like they’re almost back to normal. You still haven’t brought up sexuality. (You wouldn’t dare with anyone, not again, not after the Tobin e-mail.) 

And Andres hasn’t exactly asked you out, but you hang out together at school and he sits with you at lunch out on the bench next to the soda vending machine. It’s nice. He’s funny. Like really funny. He makes a laugh a lot. And he has a big goofy smile. 

(The one time you catch yourself thinking that it kind of reminds you of Tobin’s smile you freeze and barely manage two more bites of your lunch.)

Vero is on her way to art one day when she sees the two of you and when she texts you about it later, it feels okay, safe, comfortable. 

You’re not gay. Vero might be but that’s fine. 

It’s not a big deal. Maybe after Christmas you’ll even have a boyfriend. 

  
  


Tyler’s single. Thank God! No more stupid boyfriend. 

She mopes around a bit, but it’s still fun to hang out with her and she rents you R-rated horror movies to watch together. It’s kind of nice to have some proper sister time. Besides, she doesn’t ask you, for once, if you have a boyfriend. 

Christmas is nice and for the first time in a few Christmases you feel almost...hopeful. It’s comfortable here. You feel almost like yourself. The lonely ache that has become a permanent resident in your chest feels like it takes a vacation. 

You don’t know how long it’ll last, if it’ll come back with a vengeance when you head back to Colombia or not, but you take it while you can get it. 

  
  


You and Vero start hanging out again. 

A lot. 

She’s still busy with high school things, but it feels like she’s making real time for you, like she really wants to include you in things. 

It feels like a weight off your chest. 

  
  


And then your parents tell you you’re moving to the States. They say they don’t know where yet, but they’re going to job fairs soon. They want to live closer to Tyler. They want to live closer to your grandma as she gets older. It just makes more sense for your family to be in the States right now. Won’t it nice to go home? 

Except it’s not home. It’s never been your home. It’s been theirs, but you and Channing have never spent longer than a month or two of summer vacation there. 

And you don’t know if you want to stay in Colombia, but at least you KNOW what it’s like here. You KNOW people and you have some friends. You have Andres (who still hasn’t asked you out, but he’s kissed you again, so that’s something) and you have Tiane and Jenni and Sofia and your soccer team, and you have Vero. 

  
  


You have Vero and it really feels like it too because when you call her about it she lets you vent for two hours about how much it sucks and how you really don’t think you want to move at all. 

She invites you over for a sleepover and your parents (you suspect feeling a little guilty at uprooting you again) agree to it even though it’s last minute and a school night. 

And when you get there she hugs you, holds you close, lets you cry on her shoulder. 

She reminds you, for a flash, for a moment, of Tobin, of nights spent crying on the phone to her, of times you let her hug you with tears in your eyes. 

But Vero isn’t Tobin. 

She isn’t the older friend guiding you to look at the positives. She’s got tears in her own eyes, and she’s saying how much it sucks and how much she’s going to miss you and how much she’d been looking forward to you going to high school with her, being on the same team as her again, having the same schedule as her again. 

You stay up late into the night talking and you know that you’re going to pay for it in class in the morning but you don’t really care because Vero’s lying next to you in bed and you’re both staring at the ceiling through the darkness of the room and her arm is pressed against yours and her foot keeps tapping yours and it feels —

You feel —

Like you don’t want this to ever end. 

  
  


You get to stay with Vero when your parents go job hunting. Channing has to go with them, but you get to stay. Eighth grade is important. It’s almost high school. It’s harder to miss classes, harder to get caught up, and it matters more. And Vero’s family offers. 

You and Vero stay up late every night. 

You stay up and talk and do your homework together even though it’s not the same homework, and you find yourself laughing more than you have all year. 

Andres is funny, but he doesn’t make you laugh like Vero does. 

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like it’s a contest. 

You’re not gay. 

You’re just best friends, and it’s nice to finally feel like you’re best friends again. 

  
  


It’s your last night with Vero after a week and a half and it’s a Saturday and you’re already dreading having to go home tomorrow, when Vero tells you. 

It blindsides you maybe more than you should. Maybe you’ve missed signs. Maybe you just haven’t wanted to see. 

She tells you and you’re pretty sure that your heart stops beating for a few seconds while your brain scrambles to process the words, to understand what she’s saying, to formulate a response that won’t fuck things up irreparably between you both. 

“I’m in love with you.” 

And it’s not —

She doesn’t mean —

But she does —

And it means that she’s —

“Oh.”

“Oh?” she asks, and you already know that this is the wrong response, that you’re about to screw things up beyond repair, but the word, “Fuck,” still falls from your lips. 

And she steps back, lips pulling back into a sneer. “Oh fuck? That’s your reaction?” 

And you don’t know how— 

You don’t know what —

“I’m not. I’m not gay.”

You’re not. You cling to that like a lifeline. 

“I’m not asking you to be,” Vero retorts. 

“So what...I don’t...What do you want me to do?” 

“I just...wanted you to know. I thought — I thought it wouldn’t matter. I thought you wouldn’t completely freak out.” 

And you swallow hard. It feels like someone is pulling the floor out from under you. Has the room always been spinning or did it just start? 

“I’m not. I’m not freaking out.” But your body feels like it’s too hot and too cold all at once. 

The look of disappointment on Sarah’s face this summer doesn’t compare at all to the look Vero’s giving you now. 

And you want to make it go away. You want to fix it. You want to rewind the last two minutes to before she told you when everything felt perfect and your friendship felt so special. 

You feel the seconds ticking by, the moment slipping through your fingers. 

Vero looks like she’s about to cry. Or yell. Or tell you to go fuck yourself. 

And you don’t know if you can take any of that. 

You don’t know what to do. 

You don’t know what to say. 

You don’t know how to fix it. 

And then you do the worst possible thing that you could do. 

The thing that will make everything worse. 

The thing that means that —

That you’ve thought that —

That —

Fuck. 

  
  


Vero’s lips are warm and soft and nothing like you’d imagined. 

And the kiss is short. 

She pulls away in surprise and your fingers come instantly to your lips because you can’t believe that you’ve just —

That you could be so stupid. 

(That that single kiss made your body feel more than any other kiss you’ve ever had.) 

She’s frowning as she looks at you, and she asks, “What was that?”

You say the only thing you can: the truth. “I don’t know.” 

“I don’t — You don’t have to pretend to like me back.” 

“I didn’t. I’m not! I — I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

Vero licks her lips and you can’t help but look, can’t help but watch, can’t help but think that you just kissed her, you just kissed those lips. 

And —

Fuck! 

You’re not gay, but —

Jesus Christ!

You’re such a fucking idiot. 

  
  
  
  


You don’t talk about it. You basically pretend that it never happened. Vero doesn’t mention it and you don’t mention it, but suddenly you’re only really hanging out in groups, never just the two of you anymore. 

When you do stand too close to her or you are momentarily left alone, it feels like you can’t breathe, like you don’t know what to do with your body, like you want to touch her and run away all at the same time. 

You avoid Andres like the plague, but you can’t avoid Vero. 

What you can do, though, is throw yourself into training. 

You only have a few more months here, and then you’re leaving. It’s looking like you’re gonna be moving to New York and then you don’t have to come back to Colombia ever again. You don’t have to see any of these people ever again. 

So you run extra laps. You take extra shots on goal even though it’s not the season right now. You shoot extra baskets so you get better at basketball. You work on every dribbling trick you can work out. You do anything that puts a ball at your feet or in your hands. 

You make sports your life. 

  
  


The sports seasons end, though. The school year is drawing to a close. And the middle school prom is coming up. 

It’s like the last big party and you feel like you should go even if you’re not really sure that you WANT to. 

Nobody asks you, but you’re okay with that. You’re leaving. There’s no point in getting too attached or trying to date someone. It doesn’t matter. 

You’re moving on to a new place with new people and your life is going to change again. 

(And in New York nobody knows that you kissed a girl. Nobody knows that maybe you have thoughts about girls. Nobody but you, at least.) 

  
  


The night turns out to be fun. Tiane and Jenni and Sofia and you all go together as friends and it’s easy, it’s familiar. They coax you out onto the dance floor and you’ve figured it out a little now, figured out the rhythms and the sway of her hips, figured out some of the steps to do. And it’s fun. 

You dance and you laugh and you manage to enjoy this time with the friends that you’ve made. 

And then Vero shows up. She shows up and she gets your attention from the door and you follow her outside, your heart racing. 

You’re all dressed up in a sleeveless dress and your hair is down and straight and your makeup is done and Vero is there in jeans and a button-up shirt and a leather jacket looking —

Well, she looks —

Well, you try not to think about it. 

“I don’t like how we left things,” Vero says. 

You try to play it off like you don’t know what she’s talking about, like you don’t know that she doesn’t really mean the actual last time you saw each other. 

“What, saying we’d get arepas con queso on the last day of school?” 

Vero gives you a look, and your heart skips a beat. 

“Oh,” you murmur. 

She leads you further away from the music and the laughter and the dancing. She leads you to a bench and she sits and you sit next to her, shivering from something that has nothing to do with the temperature of the air around you and everything to do with the girl beside you. 

“I just...I didn’t expect you to, like, feel the same or whatever.”

“Okay,” you say, unsure of what else you might reply. 

“But I needed you to know.” 

“Okay,” you repeat, feeling like a broken record. 

“I’m...like...I don’t know. I like girls. I think. I like you.”

“You said you were in —”

“I know. And I am. I think. Or I was. Or —” She shakes her head and you play with your fingers in your lap, picking at your cuticles, aware of an uncomfortable feeling in your chest between your ribs, like a pressure that makes you feel almost sick. 

“Was?” Your voice cracks and you hate yourself a little for asking, hate the way you sound upset. (You hate the way you feel upset even more.) 

“I don’t know,” Vero replies. 

There’s silence and it’s some of the most awkward silence you’ve ever experienced. 

And then she says, “You kissed me.” 

You want to say that you didn’t, that it was a mistake, that she imagined it. But none of that is true, so eventually you nod. 

“Why?” 

You wish you had an answer for her. You wish you had an answer for yourself. YOu’ve asked yourself that same question over and over and over since it happened. You shrug. 

“Do you...do you think you like girls?”

“I like guys,” you’re quick to reply. 

But Vero didn’t become one of your best friends because she couldn’t read you, because she couldn’t tell what was going on with you. 

“AND girls?” she asks. 

You want to say no. You want to deny it and run away and go back to the dance and finish out middle school and then go to New York and forget all of this ever happened. 

You want to, but you don’t. 

Instead you shrug again, feeling your cheeks burn, feeling the pressure in your chest grow increasingly uncomfortable. 

“Can I — Would it be okay if — I mean, we could test. If you want.”

Your heart is pounding so hard in your chest that you can barely hear her over it. There is no way that she said what you think she said. There’s no way that she means —

“Test?” 

“I could kiss you. To see. If you feel...something,” Vero suggests. 

The idea simultaneously thrills you and terrifies you, so instead of replying to it directly you say, “I’m moving.”

She snorts. “I know.” 

“Soon.” 

“I know,” she repeats. “I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend, Chris. I’m just saying if you wanted to...experiment...we could.”

It’s a bad idea. No, it’s a horrible idea. No, it’s —

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

You nod, but your palms are sweating and your heart is beating so fast that you’re sure it’s about to fly out of your chest and your stomach is churning, and then Vero’s hand is on your cheek and her kind brownish green eyes are looking into yours until —

God her lips are so soft. 

Your stomach flips and your eyes close and you kiss her. 

It’s tender and slow and it’s just more than a peck, and then she kisses you again, a little surer, a little harder. 

You let out a small sound that you have no control over at all and it sounds somewhere between a whimper and a moan. 

She pulls away and you blush and cover your mouth, cover your face, hide from her probing eyes. 

“How did that feel?” she asks. 

You shrug without making eye contact. Words rush to your mind but you don’t even want to admit them to yourself, let alone to her. 

“Would you want to do it again?” 

You should say no. You should run and leave and tell her no. 

You nod and she smiles a beautiful smile and you feel like your world might implode. 

  
  
  
  


You don’t do it a lot, but you think about it constantly. You think about the softness of her lips. You think about the sweetness of her tongue. You think about the way your stomach does flips just thinking about kissing her. You think about how when she pulls away you’re left wanting more. You think about how hard you blush, how fast your heart beats, how you’ve never reacted quite like that to anyone before. 

You think about how you want to kiss her again and again, how you wasted so much time not kissing her, being weird around her. 

Most of all you think about what liking kissing her means. 

It terrifies you. 

You don’t want it to be true. You don’t want to put words to it, and yet —

When you kiss her goodbye, in the privacy of your bedroom, your parents and your sister none the wiser in the living room, you find yourself admitting, “I like you.”

Vero smiles her stunning smile. “I like you too, Chris.”

It’s not a full admission, but it’s a start. 

A start that feels like it could end her world, but a start nonetheless.


End file.
